Elita's Revenge
by hummergrey
Summary: Elita wanted time alone, instead she got Decepticons, fuel problems and Prime hunting her. Ch 25 Five femmes return home with hangovers. Add a two color sparkling, Prowl glitching, and three stone eggs. Rated T for battles, love scenes, and robot swearing
1. Chapter 1 Exile is chosen

Author's Notes: I was inspired by ladyofdarkstar Wheeljack and Optimus sequence in her fic, "_What comes around_." The idea of an in trouble mech facing punishment of stasis or exile. The rest flowed from there and here it is.

I know, you were waiting for me to update my main fic, "_If an Autobot do NOT do the following_" but this particular plot bunny has bugged me for several days. I'm learning to go with the flow otherwise I set and stare at a blank screen, type, then scrap it over and over until I find the right idea, getting mondo frustrated in between.

So enjoy, because Optimus won't. But hey, it all goes with being team leader, sparkmate to a fiery femme, and unexpected results from normal actions. Onward to playing escalato and losing badly.

TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TRANSFORMERS

On Diego Garcia Island, NEST base, not a sound was heard in the Autobot brig main entry. Ultra Magnus waited behind Red Alert, wondering what was taking the younger mech so long to key a simple entry lock. 'Prime is going to frag his aft when he returns. Worse, he drags me into this as a seasoned commander. Too many bots forget Optimus is spark brother to Megatron. Just because he rarely shows his temper doesn't mean he is not capable of ripping things apart. Worse the matrix wisdom tells him exactly how to do it. All they see is the Prime and the slagging miracles only he can pull off. They want that power without the responsibility or horror that goes along with it.'

Red Alert stood before the door to the brig cells and pulled air deeply into his vents; savoring the feel of control that door gave him. The tall red and white mech remained immobile, his white armored hand holding a cable's width for the control pad. 'Because it isn't just a door that stands before me. It is a physical barrier between the mech who runs security operations under Prowl and Prime and a mech with real, command authority,' he considered. 'Too many times they ignored my warnings, telling me I'm paranoid. Any bot can be a danger, become a threat but they laughed. Now who is laughing, hmmm.' He keyed the number code and strode through, barely aware of the larger white, red and blue mech following.

Inside the brig, three of the four cells were empty, recharge berths and table cleaned and ready for use. The nearest one tingled with its glowing power bars engaged and the lone occupant that stood facing them.

Elita felt anger at the two mechs staring through the glowing bars at her but nothing showed. Externally the rose colored femme was the calm, war seasoned officer they had fought beside and respected. Internally she was ready to chew them up one side and down the other and spit out the pieces. Lots and lots of little pieces. 'Bad enough they throw me in here but to treat me as though I had actually committed a crime and not to wait for Prime, oh these two are going to pay.'

"The law is the law, irregardless of who has committed the crime," Red Alert began formally. "Elita One, femme commander, you stand accused of violating Prime's rule regarding safe conduct around the humans. Charges are you did willfully and intentionally endanger a human with your actions and a careless disregard for their fragile physical and mental nature."

"All that? Impressive," She commented, keeping a rein on her temper. "And?"

"You made them scared of us," Red Alert continued.

"Scared?" She snapped. "They're scared of everything from spiders to a lack of light when the sun sets. Our relationship with the race is not changed because of a few narrow misses from my rifle on its lowest setting."

"You admit to firing your weapon at a human?" Red Alert challenged as she moved closer to the glowing bars separating them.

Ultra Magnus winced, recognizing the femme's stance. His protective protocols began screaming for battle readiness in full. 'Her weapons are disabled by the coding locks built into these walls same as med bay. Then again, her mind and wits are deadly. Maybe I can leave here, get in a fight with a Decepticon and claim battle damage erased this memory? Excuse for my poor judgment in agreeing to interview her?' He pondered rapidly as she remained quiet.

"_By_ a human, not _at_, and I had cause," Elita finally answered, focusing both of them on her.

"How do you plead?" Red Alert jumped ahead as Ultra Magnus refused the urge to throttle the mech.

"Plead? You really want me to answer that?" she stated.

::We should wait for Prime or Prowl and the other officers to return. We have the basics, let them handle this:: Ultra Magnus cautioned.

::I hold rank when they are not present. Prime has never objected to my handling of the twins, either set or other mechs. This femme is no different:: Red Alert sent back before closing the internal comm line rudely.

"How do you plead?" he repeated.

She opened her mouth plates to answer then stopped, venting hard as a sudden idea formed in her processor. "Guilty on all charges," she said. Then held in a laugh as they both twitched, optics spinning at full as their cooling fans clicked on with audible whirrs. 'There, thought I would plead not guilty. You want to play with the big bots do you? Then be ready when the game escalates to the next level.'

Red Alert's frame visibly shuddered before he regained command of his own chassis. "I uh... that is…" he straightened formally. "By your own admission… of guilt you leave me no option but to enforce the penalties recorded."

"The law is the law," she murmured.

"You are fined 25,000 credits and sentenced to eighteen orns in either stasis lock or exile. Your choice," he managed to say without stuttering or pausing, those his tone was more of a question.

Ultra Magnus raised a hand, taking over. "Stasis is under Ratchet's care on your own recharge berth. And any command officer, Prime included, can approve the delay of a sentence pending circumstances. There are precedents. As well as formal review of the proceedings and their legality."

"Not a problem," Elita began, watching as they both relaxed. "I choose exile, effective immediately."

"You what!" Red Alert shouted, nearly blowing a processor.

"Not an option," Ultra Magnus snapped out, suddenly understanding her intentions. "Even if you… leave… you have to be seen by a qualified medical expert. Ratchet has not examined you, being on the same mission as Prime. First Aid is not ranked high enough to qualify. Exile is not abandonment or condemning an unprepared mech."

"Really? I had a physical last week and topped off my energon this morning before the encounter with that fleshling. I am leaving now. That is my right," she hissed. "Once sentence is given you cannot deny me speedy justice."

"But Prime," Red Alert began, waving his arms all directions at once.

"Will review the case. He will not make an exception for me. The law is the law. Now let me out of here so I may leave," Elita growled. Ten minutes later, the three of them stood facing a DC-10 Cargo plane on the main runway.

"You must board in the next two minutes ma'am," the human cargo master instructed, adding her routing orders to his schedule. Assigned to Diego Garcia from the beginning, he never questioned last minute additions or changes. She wanted off the island to transfer to a military base then he would ensure she arrived with the minimum of transferring and utmost secrecy.

:: Elita, please reconsider. Don't hurt Optimus this way:: Ultra Magnus sent to her alone. He condsidered tackling her then refrained. She would only hurt him badly and still leave as he lay in med bay.

::I am not hurting him and you both hurt me. Neither of you ever asked my side as though you cared. Only if I endangered one of them and not _why_:: Elita sent, slamming the line closed with a burst of static. Transforming, the convertible engine hummed with a power no earth made machine could match. Her rose-colored alt form rolled up the ramp and neither mech moved as the cargo hatch sealed. The plane taxied and soared away into the clouds before they moved.

Nine hours later found them both waiting in the exact spot as a blue and red flamed Peterbilt semi rolled down another DC-10 cargo ramp. The setting sun across the ocean presented a calm, painting perfect background. Humans and their equipment unloaded from the neighboring plane, their noises and laughter mixing with the tropical breeze. Transforming, Optimus, last living Autobot Prime, war commander over all Autobot forces and sparkmate to Elita One settled into his bi pedal mode. He glanced at his waiting officers, reading their stances, the way their optics moved and refused to vent in exasperation.

"What happened, who got hurt or in the brig and how many beings do I have to talk to fix the mess?" His regal baritone carried a trace of annoyance. Ultra Magnus prodded Red Alert forward. The mech kept his head down, optics nearly closed as he struggled for the right words. Ironhide transformed alongside Prowl, both coming to stand behind Optimus.

::One thousand credits he overstepped his authority and needs dadu Prime here to bail his aft out with the humans:: Ironhide teased, cleaning a tree branch out of his leg joint.

::No bet. Past performance indicates future courses of action:: Prowl commented, double checking the angling on his singed left wing door. The char mark was obvious as the cracked simulated window glass to his irritation.

::Meaning?:: Ratchet joined in, transforming to his bi pedal mode next, fingers morphing to tools to adjust Prowl's door.

::He is in trouble. Couldn't you wait until med bay to fix that?:: Prowl winced, as his sensitive door joint gave a twinge in the medic's hands.

::You don't have enough processors to comprehend how bad he spilled the energon this time. Prime is going to need all of you:: Ultra Magnus interrupted.

"I am a patient mech Red Alert. But I need information on the problem to fix it," Optimus prodded gently.

"Elita left," he mumbled.

"Left? Went on a mission?" Optimus asked even as his internal systems began scanning for her unique energy signature.

"No, not a mission. Uhm, she fired at a human and chose immediate exile," he mumbled louder, daring to raise his optics up towards Optimus.

"WHAT!" they yelled in unison but Optimus vocal range thundered out them all. He reached forward, grabbing the Red Alert's front neck ridge, pulling him up off the ground.

"What happened? Tell me or I will rip it from your processor myself," he threatened.

::Nice acting Prime. Kid is scared:: Ironhide

::I'm not acting. Either he tells me or I force jack his processor:: Optimus rotated his head to look at his oldest friend and bodyguard. Then snapped back forward as Ultra Magnus began speaking.

"It was her choice for eighteen orns. She pled guilty," he explained.

"What were the facts?" Prowl asked. "I am unable to locate an official report of the incident in either the NEST mainframe or our private access files."

"There isn't one. I'm still working on it," Red Alert squirmed until Optimus released his chassis, dropping him back to the pavement.

"Spill it junior before we take you apart. What happened?" Ironhide warned, rolling his arm cannons.

"We're not sure," Ultra Magnus admitted, refusing to recoil from their anger. He matched Optimus' size and experience and would help Red Alert but not cover for him. "The incident took place beyond camera range and only two humans were involved, neither willing to discuss the incident other than the claim she fired her weapon at one of them. Both are in secluded in their private quarters. Neither were harmed physically."

"Humans I don't trust. What did Elita say?" Ratchet asked.

"She admitted to firing a weapon at the human for cause," Red Alert said.

"What cause?" Optimus rumbled, moving a step forwards as the other mech shrunk down on his chassis and shuffled backward.

"Uh, she never said," he squeaked out.

"You never gave her a chance to. Watch the brig security tapes Prime. You will understand," Ultra Magnus advised. All the mech's optics dimmed for a brief instant as the accessed and replayed the entire sequence super fast.

"Every accused has the right to speak for themselves, present relevant evidence and ask for a review of the entire proceedings to ensure justice," Prowl beat Optimus to speaking first. As second in command it was his job, his duty, even his life to assist Prime. Keeping him from ripping the spark out of a fellow Autobot that had really messed up was at the top of that list.

"She chose exile, to leave," Optimus rumbled even as his processors played out every likely scenario of where she had headed to.

"Tsk, tsk," Prowl pantomimed a human judge he had seen once. "Her inability to present her side invalidates the entire proceeding, based on denial of proper etiquette and denial of a prisoner's rights. The humans were not formally interviewed, the scene not examined?" he guessed, watching Red Alert wince at each question.

"Even a Decepticon has a right to say last words before being offlined. To be heard and a message passed on if necessary," Ironhide said, his cannons still spinning. The others turned to stare open jaw at him. "Can't help it if I'm a good shot and they don't stay online long enough to talk. But they have the right," he mumbled.

"Then that solves it," Red Alert's optics brightened as he stood up straight. "All charges are dropped and you cannot be tried for the same crime twice. You can talk to the humans and get this… misunderstanding straightened out and Elita can tell her side. Problem solved, right?"

"And how do we tell her that?" Optimus growled, crossing his arms and tapping one hand on his military grade armor arm panel.

_To be continued…_


	2. Chapter 2 Plots, craters and alt forms

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. The first part of a fic always seems to fly. Working on more than one fic at a time is challenging but as the mind is available, use it. This is more a who done it mystery type. Twists, intrigue and general fun as you will read below.

Fan fiction was working on the site this weekend (December 20, 2009) and posts and notifications were hours behind. Therefore, you may be seeing this on Monday morning. Enjoy either way, Layra and Prowl.

Breem is 8.3 minutes, Joor is 6.5 hours, Orn is 13 days. Onward to moving in the shadows.

**Diego Garcia Island, NEST military base, Indian Ocean**

**Civilian Personnel Quarters**

Jim Ahrens and Michael Smith, both civilian technicians assigned to Diego Garcia faced the secret transmitter with a sense of foreboding. Their mission had been simple, carefully planned and now they were secluded in their quarters, hiding from the rest of the base. The various voices transmitted over the communications device were not reassuring.

"You idiot fleshlings! You were supposed to catch a small mech alone," the high-pitched whiny voice reminded. "The plan was to make an Autobot dimwit shoot at you. While in the brig, they are controlled and protected by NEST the rest of the time. However, once forced into stasis we could get to them. Unload all we want or even steal the entire form. That is why we ordered you two to use a small, weaker bot."

"We picked a female. How much weaker can you get than that?" Michael asked.

"You picked the spark mate of their leader! And a military commander in her own right," the voice whined.

"We didn't know. We did our part, you promised to pay regardless of how long it took," the human protested, making a hand gesture unseen by anyone except his cohort in crime.

"Did you even read any of the briefing material we gave you? We spent a fortune bribing and getting you two transferred for what? To pit slag it!" The voice increased in pitch and volume to a shriek.

"Nah uh! She is off the base. Go find her and she disappears never seen again. Boo hoo," Michael offered; hoping to shift from blame to a solution that still got them paid. He owed money to a gambling buddy that was not content to wait. Only the distant location and security of the base kept his legs intact and not broken as a payment reminder.

"We were tracking her. We lost her outside of Nellis Air Force Base in heavy traffic. There was no time to place a tracker on her earth form." The deeper, suave voice of the operation mastermind stated.

"Alt mode," Jim finally joined the conversation.

"Whatever. You had better think of an excuse to face the Autobots," the higher pitched voice warned.

"Why? Rumor said they dropped the charges. The big and mighty red blue guy is going to apologize to us," Michael bluffed.

"Optimus apologizes to no one. And you have failed yet again," the deep voice growled before disconnecting the line. The communications device hummed, a single circular light on the side began spinning, and each rotation a little less of the light ring remained. Arguing about if they were going to be paid, neither man noticed it disappear, receding into the device.

KAWHOOM!

In an astro second, both men and a gird of Diego Garcia vanished downward into an implosion of light and sound. No evidence remained, drawn into an energon based mini warp field. Emergency crews responded alongside Autobots even as the warp hole collapsed in on itself, disappearing into subspace.

**Four Hours Later, Autobot Med Bay**

Optimus Prime opened his blue optics to the white ceiling of med bay and vented softly. Memory cores came online even as his systems recognized the energy signatures of Ratchet, Ironhide, and Prowl.

"Your systems are reset. The impact at the bottom of the crater jarred one of your processors. You were intent on inspecting the crater and triggered a secondary trap. That is the official story," Ratchet moved into view, his optics spinning as he completed medical scans.

Ironhide snorted. "I did try to grab you Prime. You slid like an energon tunnel cleaner when the edge went. Your impact created a secondary crater. The twins were impressed and Hoist finally used his long crane attachment. The humans were kept at a distance, trying to locate the missing men in case the explosion was a diversion. Never saw what happened."

"How long did it take to retrieve me?" He sheepishly asked, remembering his distress over the explosion, the sudden spark freezing terror of knowing Elita was beyond his protection, with no idea of the terrible danger. The glass like edge had cracked as he had turned, yelling orders. Then it collapsed under his massive frame, the smooth sides leaving no traction. "Wait, reset takes astro seconds and possible while being retrieved. Why was I offline over half a joor? I show no other damage."

Prowl stepped forward, his black and white wing doors straight up. "We attempted a trans link through your spark. We were unable to locate her. It was my decision and I am willing to accept any punishment you may mete out."

"Thank you for trying," Optimus startled him by saying, laying an armored silver hand on his second in command's forearm. "I had already considered the idea but was unwilling to be in stasis that long."

"We tried," Ironhide said. "But she can take care of herself."

His spark beat with her pulse signal, telling him she was alive and functional. His battle computer calculated the successful odds of her survival and return. His processor refused to accept any proof except her vibrant, intact and online frame in his arms. He shook himself mentally. "You are a Prime not a youngling with a first infatuation. You were apart for thousands of years on different planets, in war, and a few breems has you worried for her safety?'

Ironhide frowned as Optimus slid off the medical berth, shifting his weight to a wide stance and brightening his optics. "She can handle situations and made her choice. We will search for her to notify her of potential danger. Until contact can be made, we have duties." He strode out the doors and towards his office, accessing records and giving orders over the comm. Behind him, two mechs exchanged a knowing look before following.

"He's going to hide in official duties to escape how he feels," Ironhide groaned, rubbing a black armored hand over his faceplates.

"And overwork his systems, put off recharging and energon refills. Primus, will he never learn? His obsession with Elita is his strength. And she draws on his strength. What was she processing? Leaving?"

"Fulfillment of long standing orders neither she nor the Prime obey," Prowl said, coming down the hallway to join them.

"What orders rule bot?" Ironhide growled.

"To rest. She recognized an official opportunity to escape her duties and responsibilities without refusing them. She is a femme commander and has passed judgment on members of her own team and others," he stated, relaxing his wing doors down a notch.

"Meaning?" Ironhide asked.

"She knows procedures and how to invalidate them. She would have known she had the right to speak and what to say," Ratchet realized the obvious. "And she can contact us at any opportunity, having just realized those rights and return. That is one devious femme."

"How quickly will she contact? I'm worried about Prime that explosion was Decepticon made or I'll load my cannons with toy teddy bears," Ironhide growled.

No bot there had an answer. An APB All points bulletin was issued across the United States for a missing woman matching Elita's holographic description, last seen in a pink convertible license plate ELITA 1.

**California Coast Highway, Northbound**

Elita waited at the traffic light, letting the noise of the humans around her swell through her system. Giggling, she kept her alt mode from shaking even as a smirk formed on the lips of her holographic driver. "I can't believe I have been gone an entire day. No bot yelling for me to fix their messes, no pile of human paperwork and their endless rules." The light turned green and she rolled forward with the traffic, navigating a turn at the next corner. Within a few blocks, she was rolling up the freeway ramp increasing speed. "Onward to where the road leads."

Hours later, she waited in stop and go traffic, inching around a traffic accident. Her acute alien hearing caught the emergencies workers comments. "Is that what they think of my alt mode and hologram? All frame and no processor? Is that how I appear?" She began randomly sampling conversations of cars nearby, hearing a variety of topics and comments about her appearance. Processing hard, she pulled off the next exit, noting all the surrounding cars. "I fit in as a California car on the coastal route. But do I want to draw that much attention to myself?" A quick search of the internet provided the nearby locations of several car dealerships.

"New freedom, new alt form. Be a draw on my energon and systems but I have enough to spare," she thought. Waiting to turn at the stop sign, she noted the large ski resort billboard. "Snow? I have heard of it but never seen it. Time I did," she pulled over, parking in an open space. Researching, Elita found a suitable alt mode for the new mountain destination. A rose convertible rolled into the car lot, emitting a scan of light over the grey vehicle next to it. A minute later, a rose-colored Lexus LX 570 SUV rolled out of the lot, leaving a very baffled lot attendant staring back at the original.

Elita felt the strain on her systems, hesitating on losing the time to recharge in stasis and absorb sunlight or pull more energon the next refill. 'Dumb bot!' she mentally complained. 'There is no energon until the time is up or you find a fast food place with an energon drive through. Sunlight and stasis it is. Need a public parking garage. Stay all day once I pay and no human will touch me with a guard at the gate."

Ten minutes later, she paid the lot fee, backing into a parking space. Her holographic driver got out, holding a purse and talking on a cell phone to avoid conversation with the guard. Once around the corner, the thin blonde woman shimmered and disappeared. The Lexus settled on its wheels, windows darkening as the internal systems slowed into temporary stasis. An hour later the faintest touch of a spark overlay pinged in, unable to lock. The echo had faded by the time Elita pulled out of stasis and into a true recharge. That evening, she returned to consciousness as her alarm systems engaged.

"What? Oh, a human car alarm. Driver bumped the car alongside him and the noise triggered my systems. Slag, I was out for a while. No quickie energon refills is going to crimpy my power lines if I'm not careful." Her engine roared to life, engaging the wheels as her holographic driver appeared before the windows cleared.

"Now, color change? Pink? No. Blue? Never Bluestreak or green like Hound but I need a different color. Hmm, red and blue like Optimus?"

She paused, feeling her spark ache for him. "I could check messages? I know he left them. Then again, he left that idiot Red Alert in charge instead of me. Maybe time away will do him good. Enough to let him miss me. Was certainly enthusiastic enough to see me after I first landed. An orn should be sufficient at most." Her color shimmered, settling to a deeper red, removing the sparkle effect and two-tone layering.

"And the Autobot symbols proclaim a shoot me now message." She hesitated, wearing the symbols for more years than without them. "I barely remember being Ariel. What it was like before the war. But I do remember. Moreover, adding new memories means moving forward. Exiles are classified neutrals, no rank and no allegiance. Not that Decepticons take the time to notice." Both symbols erased out via command, even though the nannites would take several days to fill the metal etchings. As a final touch, her license plate dissolved from spelling out "_ELITA 1_" to simply "_ELT - 926_."

She began scanning humans, noticing their details and updating her holographic figure. The lacy ruffled top transmorphed into a white button down shirt with short sleeves and modest neckline. Pants became jeans as her high heels became white winter boots, without trim or sparkle. The height remained the same as the weight proportions were increased throughout even if only slightly. The state patrol vehicle she passed never connected the vehicle with the missing person's rose-colored convertible every major police agency was now on the lookout for.

_To be continued…_


	3. Chapter 3 Snow angels and triangles

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. Please set _story alert_ to keep up on latest additions. Again, my knack for picking little known Autobots based on their alt modes and having fun with them in cameo guest appearances. Writing is a love hate relationship. I love making people smile, gasp or be surprised. I hate staring at a blank page trying to work out how to begin and not having that super 'aha' moment in each and every chapter. Onward to trying the new and missing the familiar.

**Diego Garcia Island, Autobot area**

**Prime's Office**

Chromia's lip plates turned down into a frown as the door's "_access denied_" red warning panel began flashing. "I know that is the code," she murmured, typing the numbers again. The same message repeated. The dark blue femme consulted memory banks confirming the sequence typed. 'Door won't open. I can either a – slag it. b – blast it open or c – knock repeatedly until Prime opens it or d –try the subtle approach."

::Hey hot stuff. You got an override for Prime's office? Slagger is in there and I have energon for him:: Chromia

::You trading up femme?:: Ironhide teased. :: You don't bring me energon::

::I bring you cannon replacement parts and power relays. I can always switch to…:: Chromia sent right back.

::No need to get threatening 'Mia. Code is the one you have. Prime disabled the lock his side again. Blast the door. Then he has to leave for repairs:: Ironhide

::Tried that on Cybertron. He used a hologram to block visual access and turned his audios off for the noise. I got this handled:: Chromia sent, closing the line she shared exclusively with her spark mate. Her thumb rotated back as a mini laser slid out. Aiming, she sliced a single line left to right above the door. The metal melted, exposing the circuitry inside. Grinning, she sliced the bright green cable with the laser, severing it. The door locks clicked off. The same laser removed a wedge out of the door itself to create a handhold.

Prime sat at his oversize desk, optics trained on the far wall, datapads and human reports spread out before him as she silently slid the door open.

"Message for Optimus Prime," She cheerfully began. "The rest of the world still exists, including energon tanks and alarm clocks. Both of which you have been ignoring." She plopped both energon containers down between his massive hands then stepped back, falling into the chair directly across from him.

"The door was locked," he rumbled, pushing the energon to the side to join the row of containers waiting there.

"You really didn't think that would keep friends away? Elita taught me that trick by the way. You always use the same protections to prevent force overrides including moving the cabling above head height of most mechs instead of alongside the door."

"My logic has been… faulty as Prowl would observe. I wish she was here," he admitted.

"If she was here, she would kick your aft," Chromia reminded, bracing her feet against the front of the desk. If Optimus was going to sulk and be emotional, she was willing to test his patience and temper. But even she knew better than to put her feet pads on top of the desk. "I agree your decision making has been pretty low on the energon chain. Leaving Red Alert in charge? What were you processing?""

"That 'Lita and I could get time alone. We have been trying for a sparkling. Trying as neither of us has the energy by recharge time and there is always an emergency, crisis or situation to handle," Prime grumped. His armored hands folded into fists. "I consistently short my command team by leaving a capable warrior to baby-sit those not on a mission. Ironhide is heavy weapons and saved my aft repeatedly. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker are next for military rank under him and are needed as fighters. Primus help me if I ever leave those two in command!"

She tilted her head, logistics and planning systems considering his points. "Twins are trouble, either set. Ratchet is our best medical, and First Aid can't handle more than one emergency at a time. Ratchet's tools are rumored to be as sentient as 'Hide's cannons. Both mechs exactly what to do and where to make the greatest difference." Chromia reasoned.

"Prowl assumes too much responsibility, Ultra Magnus won't assume enough even with his experience. Kup is able mentally but not physically and tends towards more diplomatic solutions that take too long. The scouts, Bumblebee and Hound are assigned to other duties," Prime's regal baritone switched a dissatisfied rumble. "I should be able to leave one earth day or even two days without worrying about my subordinates and the disasters waiting upon my return."

"You were giving Red Alert a chance to crash. He certainly succeeded," she chuckled, removing her feet pads off the desk and back to the floor.

"I gave him a chance to command. Leadership is part courage, part opportunity and part blessing of the Primes. Time equals experience. Every bot and femme here knows how to fight. It's off the battlefield we are lacking," Optimus stressed the word lacking.

"Did you tell Red Alert that? You were giving him an opportunity?"

"No."

"Why? Give him your expectations and a chance to ask what is required and what he has to do. Write out his orders if you have to," she shrugged, intent on his answer without showing it.

"I had none, neither did Elita. You know what happened. We come out of recharge civilians named Ariel and Orion and fell back into recharge breems later Optimus the Prime and Elita the Femme Commander in a war that spread across our entire world. No written orders, no easy solutions and no one to take us aside and fix our errors. Even the best most rationale decision cost mechs their sparks. The least the Autobots can do here is hold the base for a short time," he stated, his optics intense in their fiery blue before dimming down.

She leaned back in the oversized chair, pondering how to help fix a problem she never knew existed.

**Timberline Ski Lodge**

**Mt Hood, Oregon**

Elita strode across the ice confidently, much to the dismay of the surrounding humans .They slid, waved their arms and toppled over while trying to balance crossing the frozen parking lot.

"Hey, any help here?" A dark haired teenager yelped, wrapped around the front bumper of his Jeep.

"Try being lighter," she smirked as her holographic image continued walking. 'Now I sound like Skids. I do need to get out more.' The snow made no sound as she stepped onto it, no physical weight to make it crunch. A quick hop to the cleared path kept anyone from noticing her feet never sank in the powdery white stuff nor any stuck to her boots.

A human male in a long blue overcoat, the crest on his pocket matching the ski lodge symbol, held the front door open for her and the human females following. Inside, the noises of conversations, laughing and human eating flowed around her. The clink of glasses, the tang of silverware on plates and the thudding of boots on the wood floor mingled like a holiday song. Standing near the fireplace, she pretended to warm her hands as the entire room was observed.

'Prime said their race was not so different than ours. He was wrong. They are more tactile. A touch here, a gesture there and so many facial movements. For a race with no internal comms, they communicate more than we do. They think of themselves, not watching for an attack, having a secure point to fight from. Plans are made and not ended with 'if I am still online then.' We were once like them. Will we return to that or will they eventually become us? A world torn asunder and ruined? The living spread to the stars?'Her processing continued, noting couples showing affection, teasing like Ironhide and Chromia or overhearing the occasional grumpy comment that reminded her of Ratchet.

Then he walked in. A tall human male, his head down with only his dark hair showing below the blue cap. The red jacket with shoulder marks, zipped tight to hide the dog tags she could hear rustling against each other. Blue jeans over cowboy boots to clad a muscular body that moved with a hidden strength. Quickly, he stepped out of the way of a couple playfully chasing each other. He raised his head, looking directly her way.

"It's not him," she realized with a curious sinking feeling. Brown eyes and a moustache framed a lean face, even as the image of Optimus hologram superimposed over his for an astro second. "Slag it, I am not staying here to mope. There is an entire mountain to explore." Her figure gracefully wove in and out among the humans in the main room, aiming straight for the front doors.

Outside, she considered the ski lift and rejected the idea. The view could not compare to the ones she had seen from space on countless worlds. And the distance would strain her holographic projector. Skiing was out for her bi pedal mode and Lexus car form. A hologram could not feel the air, nor turn to increase or decrease speed however the best snowboard was simulated. The whine of a straining gear caught her attention. A human machine was clearing the path towards the side parking lot.

She stopped, looking closer at the orange and yellow front loader as it moved precisely. It turned, tossing a snow load and she saw it. The familiar red glint of an Autobot symbol. Small, half hidden on his front under the scoop it nevertheless proclaimed his choice. Her hand automatically touched her shoulder where hers should have been in bi pedal mode. The hologram shattered into a million light fragments as she engaged the engine. Tires spinning, the red Lexus LX 570 SUV slid out of the parking space and onto the main road, peeling away. The front loader paused, signals locking then losing the fast moving SUV.

::Tracer, do you have any high grade handy?:: Scoop sent, pausing in his snow clearing.

::No, why?:: Tracer

::My signal readers need charging. Elita was here. Alt mode was wrong though:: Scoop

::Elita as in Prime's Elita? You are glitched! She's at Diego Garcia. Cold must be affecting you. Head back to base. I'm almost done with wiring the enhancer on the mountain communications tower. Nine more enhancers and the earth wide system is up and running. Next stop, Greenland:: Tracer

::Sounds nice. Is it warmer being green?:: Scoop

::Uh no. Never downloaded earth's geography file did you?:: Tracer

::Should I?:: Scoop

::Later. And file a maintenance request on your signal readers. Don't want to misread a Decepticon:: Tracer closed the line, filing a reminder to confirm Scoop's next scheduled maintenance with Ratchet.

**Diego Garcia Island, Autobot area**

**Prime's Office**

Prowl stopped into front of Prime's office, noting the laser cut above the door and the newly cut hand slide wedge. His black and white wing doors twitched before settling.

::Are you available for a consult sir?:: Prowl

::Door is open:: Optimus sent back, the faintest mirth underlying the words.

"I noticed. Sent the repair order," his second in command stated, seeing only Prime and the mess on his desk. His cooling fans engaged as systems locks kept his fingers from reaching out for the work laying there.

Optimus noticed the twitch, instantly discerning the reason. "Your report Prowl? Then yes, you can help with reports."

"The two humans are unconfirmed offline via no detectable genetic material but security cameras record them entering the structure before the explosion and never leaving. No military service but steady work records. Assigned by the Pentagon personnel department as civilians to NEST support. Both have questionable backgrounds with a lack of personal commitments and high debts. And we found this in their work area," his tone deepened in a rare show of disgust. A small triangular device appeared in his hand out of subspace.

Optimus took it, examining it with his sensors and tactile touch. "What is it? Besides being Cybertron made."

"A coding enhancer. Set to our Autobot frequency. Ironhide confirmed it was active and had recently triggered upon discovery."

"Coding enhancer, I remember those." His optics dimmed as he recalled memory databases. "Used primarily before the fall of Iacon. Any mech in range has their core sensitivity enhanced. Brings out the worse. Irritation to anger, anger to rage, rage to destruction. The longer in its presence, the worse the reaction."

"Ratchet confirmed all Autobots presently assigned on Earth have the protective firewall coding but most had it disabled, stored in back files. Thought the danger was past," Prowl stated.

"Elita?"

"Same hangar. Ninety eight point nine two five percent probability she was affected by it during her confrontation with the humans if her firewall coding was non-active. The human stated she fired at him, Elita said by him. Escalation from words to weapons."

"And no indication of an attack plan other than Decepticon made devices appearing," Prime rotated the dormant triangle in his palm.

_To be continued…_


	4. Chapter 4 Explaining and deciding

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. This chapter is more talk and less action than the sequences coming but is necessary. Humans would not accept the idea of exile as punishment. And even a Prime can be thick chipped at times. Onward to figuring out what you want.

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**NEST base, Diego Garcia Island, Indian Ocean**

**Main Autobot Hangar**

The communications platform technicians concentrated on their monitors, pretending to ignore the conference call. While sworn to secrecy for their positions, several were already itching to tell their buddies the basics. General Morshower and his staff sided with Prowl and Optimus. Internal affairs wanted to know the extent of the humans duplicity and what secrets, if any had they stolen. Pentagon security wanted to know how two civilians had circumvented their security measures on one of the top bases in the world. The President and his staff were busy with other matters and their representative spent the opening minutes of the meeting flipping through files and looking rather lost at all the acronyms. The actual discussion focused on the Autobots explaining their side.

"Exile or stasis are traditionally the options provided," Prowl answered, his tone steady even as the minor raising and lowering of his wing doors betrayed his irritation. Optimus had flat refused to discuss the situation with human command other than to notify Major Lennox. And he skipped this call, citing 'other necessary duties' on the NEST base. Leaving Prowl to deal with the situation as second in command.

'The treaty gives us specific autonomy, including punishment and command of our own forces. Humans do not control us, however they try to. For such a small race they create big problems,' Prowl processed sourly before continuing the conversation.

"Stasis is not like your sleep and there is no guarantee of returning to normal functioning. Furthermore, we are a bonded race with communications on multiple levels. Exile on our world is a living punishment, cut off from your own kind. Once the war began, exile could mean being offlined by the enemy or captured without hope of rescue."

"This isn't your world, it's ours," a thin, younger human wearing glasses and a rather ugly multi colored brown tie raised his voice.

"Temporary advisor to the White House," General Morshower introduced without providing his name.

"Let me get this straight," the advisor said. "You punish a mech, or femme in this case, by allowing them to roam free on our planet, without guidance or monitoring, because they endangered a human being in the first place?"

"We have proof her cognitive ability was tampered with, 'drugged' if your language. She was not in complete control of her actions via a Decepticon made device that two of your human support personnel smuggled onto base in direct violation," Prowl raised his vocal tones to drown out the human's start of a protest. "Of your treaty and ours. The femme commander's safety protocols kept her from hurting said human and only scared him. Once away from the device she reverted to normal and the device is deactivated and will be destroyed."

Major Lennox verbally jumped in the conversation. "We have increased security protocols on base, and forwarded the report to NCIS and Pentagon investigations. Both men had red flags in their backgrounds yet where placed here. Physical records are missing on who approved their placement. The electronic version is simply gone from the database. Human techs are working on a trace."

"You expect us to buy this conspiracy theory?" the advisor gestured widely while his face showed his disbelief. General Morshower ducked his head, a silent sign of disapproval. The internal affairs officer muttered "amateur," to his assistant who snickered.

"Your robot messed up, probably hormonal and went after one of those she is supposed to protect," he continued.

"I object," Will snapped as Prowl protested with a burst of static before regaining control of his vocalizer.

"Hold it right there," Morshower commanded. "Their conduct has been above reproach and they have protected this entire planet."

"We do not get hormonal as we have no hormones or flesh based nerves to react from. The evidence is clear," the mechanical second in command reminded while thinking, 'Rule 218, Some glitches exist and must be tolerated. Other humans call them idiots.'

"Evidence you found and presented, to avoid prosecution after the fact," the presidential advisor argued.

"You deny the confirmation of nine of your own military personnel, each qualified in their field? The size of the crater? The power of the implosion not explosion?" Optimus confronted, striding into the hangar. "As for prosecution, Sector Seven was disbanded, none facing torture charges for their capture and imprisonment of Bumblebee, the smallest and youngest mech among us."

::He is not the smallest nor youngest, Silverblade's little femme Estel is:: Prowl

::Hush, you will ruin the effect:: Optimus sent then continued verbally in English. "We know the actions of a few do not embody your entire race. The two men missing, presumed dead are not representative of you. As for us, Elita One has consistently demonstrated judgment and self control as an officer and commander. Any proposed charges were dropped and she is on extended 'shore leave' as your race puts it. Not in formal exile."

"You mean free to spy on us!" the advisor shrieked, getting redder faced.

"We are not paparazzi, recording your intimate moments. We find your personal habits… disgusting and primitive," Optimus deliberately pretended to misconstrue the comment.

"We find you overconfident and a threat!" He roared. "My recommendation is the immediate capture of the robot with the authorization to use any and all force required, up to termination!"

General Morshower started to counter command then stopped, seeing Optimus optics spin and narrow in. His own lips twitched as he recognized other signs of a mad Transformer. Leaning back, he folded his hands, shaking his head the barest bit for the others to wait. Prowl distantly noticed their movements as he began backing away from his mech leader.

::Ironhide, Ratchet, Sideswipe, and Sunstreaker report immediately to the main hangar:: Prowl

::What's so slagging important? I'm with Chromia:: Ironhide

:: Medical emergency?:: Ratchet

::About to be. Human wants Elita captured or offlined:: Prowl

::And Prime?:: Sunstreaker

::Very fragged off. Last time he attacked Trypticon when this upset:: Prowl

::Remember that mission. Wiped part of the Decepticon city out by himself:: Ironhide

::What's he saying?:: Sideswipe

::He's not. He's not moving either:: Prowl

::#$%#^&:: Ratchet

::We'll be there. Will you?:: Sunstreaker

Optimus chose that moment to speak. He didn't yell nor make a threatening gesture but his anger was a physical presence.

"That will not be necessary. While your race is capable of great violence, we would not want you to risk yourselves unnecessarily. I understand your… concerns," He paused, silver armored hands on hip plates as he braced. "We will handle her safe return."

"If she refuses, then what? Slap on the wrist, a ticket to Hawaii? You never kill anything. Not even Megatron! And look at the trouble he causes!" the advisor ranted. "You keep him around to make us need all of you!"

Prowl winced, as the human unknowingly made his boss madder. 'First Elita and now his psychopathic brother. What next? Threaten to brain wipe Sam? Is he trying to get him enraged?' he processed. 'Megatron makes mistakes when he gets enraged. Prime takes faces and sparks.' Ironhide and Ratchet rolled in, the twins right behind, transforming to their bi pedal modes to stand alongside Prowl. They recognized the tight stillness to the Prime's frame, their battle systems onlining automatically.

::If he goes, can we stop him?:: Prowl sent, wing doors pulling in higher and tighter.

::Do we want to try?:: Sunstreaker

Optimus shuttered his optics rapidly before reaching and opening a plexi glass box on the side of the communications platform. Inside was an Autobot sized communications handset. His metal finger expertly punched a number combination.

::He's up to something:: Ratchet

::Up to twenty eight feet plus of energon fueled temper if you ask me:: Ironhide

::Ratchet is correct. Why use the handset when we don't need it to communicate across their primitive systems?:: Prowl

On the main monitor, the advisor continued his raving. "Anything you say to General Morshower you might as well say to me right now and save the pretense of calling." He looked over at the conference table phone, frowning when it remained silent. "Who are you calling?"

"Your boss. The President himself provided me with a direct line access should I warrant the need following the events in Egypt. Threatening a femme with termination for being on vacation requires … clarification. And he is the designated head of your department and all the armed forces is he not?" His regal baritone was deep with his anger.

Four minutes later Optimus replaced the handset, closing the box. The advisor looked ready to hide under the conference table.

"Well, I think that certainly clarifies things," General Morshower could not contain the smirk on his face. "The Transformers are in charge. We humans need only to determine the extent of the security breach. Any questions?" he stared at the advisor without meeting the man's downcast eyes.

"I will handle this matter personally. Please keep my forces advised of any emergencies that may occur worldwide in my absence General," Optimus stated. The conference call finished and he turned to see every Autobot on base waiting.

"Hunting a femme?" Sideswipe asked in high formal Cybertronian, twirling one of his double edged swords.

"Very dangerous. Hunter becomes the hunted all too often," his red armored twin added.

"They are devious, know how to cover their tracks," Hound nodded at Bumblebee who wolf whistled back.

"I made a mistake in not going after her immediately. I am one half of the relationship and I will not stand by and let the Decepticons threaten my sparkmate. And she will answer to me for dereliction of her duties. This is not your concern. I am going alone," Optimus stated, chirping and clicking in their native language.

"No way youngling. I've stood alongside you in battle, before you to take hits from 'Cons and at your back before war councils and other officers who questioned you as Prime," Ironhide growled.

"If the Decepticons are after her, you will need help," Sideswipe said.

"I can handle them," he snarled, subspacing out both energon swords. The flexible blades reacted to his systems heightened level, curving the ends inward into hooks.

"Never doubted that," Ratchet snorted. "The help is for them. Hide their pieces before the human media spotlights them on the evening news."

"Come on Prime, let us join the party!" Cliffjumper added, his red chassis practically bouncing. "We missed Egypt."

"I can handle matters here, take a team," Ultra Magnus stated, the white, red and blue commander gazing at Red Alert and the other bots.

Optimus hesitated, not wanting an audience when he did find Elita. 'However, if Megatron is after her again, he will pay. The forest battle taught me I'm not eternal, only armored.' His optics dimmed as he ran computations.

"Agreed then. Ironhide, Ratchet, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker and Hound with me. Aerialbots on alert status for air support. Bumblebee you stay with Sam and Mikeala. Cliffjumper, back him up with Arcee and Mirage. The Decepticons may target them next. Do not engage, get them to safety and call for reinforcements. Rest of you, stay alert. That bomb could have been planted in our quarters while we recharged," he said, noting their expressions change as they realized the implications.

"Optimus!" Major Lennox yelled as he ran into the hangar, waving a clipboard. "Silverbolt and two support cargo planes are cleared for flight to any location in the world. Ready to lift in five minutes. Loaded and ready."

"How did you?" Cliffjumper asked in English.

"I'm married," he answered, grinning up at Optimus. "And I get paid the big bucks to plan ahead. Your command Prime?"

"Transform and roll out!"

_To be continued…_


	5. Chapter 5 Warehouse memories

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. Shorter post but reveals what happened between her and the humans from her side. I'm tired and will work more on this over the holiday. Have the ideas and not the time or energy. Onward to overdoing a simple assignment.

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People ignored the ruby colored Lexus SUV in the parking lot, moving around it like any other vehicle. The patrons of the diner assumed the owner was inside eating or browsing through the mini gift store. None knew the owner and the vehicle were the same or the internal struggle for balance.

"What is wrong with me? I never remember being this irritable. Okay, I do remember but there was usually a good reason," Elita processed. "Red Alert had it coming but I should contact Optimus. How? Sorry Prime, I couldn't resist teaching that youngling a lesson? It's a femme thing. Or come join me for a play day? Not. He is more trapped by his position than I am. I need to head back too. How do I explain the warehouse? The longer I am away the less I understand why I felt that way."

Memory cores replayed the incident as though it was happening again. Her waiting in the main Autobot hanger at the NEST base while in her bi pedal mode. Optimus and his team away on a mission. The femmes ready and alert as they continued their duties, not needing her oversight.

"This is boring. I wanted peace and quiet and now I have it, a little action might be nice. Optimus' stealth team returns by nightfall." Her optics followed the path of humans coming and going in their assigned duties. Cliffjumper continued talking to Ultra Magnus about an old battle they had fought in; Kup recharging in his alt mode as Arcee watched Hot Rod practicing pulling his hand blaster from all angles. 'Now they would make a good pairing. Not that Arcee needs him. He needs her control before he gets himself or one of us offlined. Even the twins jet judo is not as bad as the plans that youngster creates. Thinks he is eternal instead of armored, as the old saying goes.'

"Request for Autobot assistance in hangar nine," the supply officer said, his voice carrying from the platform with their acute alien healing. "Parts box needs moving and the special lift truck for that hangar is down. Fragile medical equipment and Ratchet signed off on the moving request for base transfer as well as expedite orders."

"I'll go," Elita answered, raising a hand human style. "Need a breath of fresh air."

"We don't need air," Cliffjumper said, looking over her direction.

::Common human expression:: Elita sent as his optics dimmed, receiving multiple comm lines inbound.

Inside hangar nine, two male humans stood by the stacked pallets. Her sensors recognized their accelerated heartbeats and neural activity. "Strange, too high for recommended normal parameters. Ahh, must have attempted to move the item themselves and were unable to do it. Fear Ratchet and his wrenches if he returns and the job is not done, or worse, the cargo inside is damaged.' She stopped, rubbing the back of her neck plates as a faint signal crossed her sensors then disappeared too quickly to be identified.

'Human technology, stolen from us. Never shield it nor recognize we are sensitive to pick up everything they broadcast. Poor planet resonates with their endless noise. Primus guided I even detected Prime's welcoming message.' She disregarded the faint signal, cross matching the pallets against the numbers on Ratchet's request.

The older of the two men approached her. "Hey, you're a femme right? Have any sparklings?"

"Yes, I am a femme or female to your race and I have no sparklings. In fact, there are none on base. We do have a youngling, Bumblebee," she explained, moving the first box carefully onto the loading rollers.

"No sparklings? You ever think that is the galaxy's way of ending your race?" He asked, his pulse rate and respiration quickening.

"What?" she questioned, blue optics snapping to him.

"Mike, be nice. They are logical sentient … things. If they wanted to continue their species, they would. Or is there a non repairable problem with your mech? Need another more…active mech? One to get your engine revving?" He touched her foot, twitching when she pulled it away from him.

"We do not discuss our intimate relationships but my mech is Prime. There is nothing wrong with either of us. And once we spark bond, there is no possibility of cheating or being attracted to another. And once bonded, no mech touches a bonded femme unless a medic or close friend," she explained, her tone devoid of emotion to the point of even being a little frosty. The same signal ghosted by her sensors as she stacked the next boxes. The last shifted as she more dropped than sat it down. All she wanted was to be finished and away from those humans.

Behind her, the man shrugged at the other in a 'now what' type gesture. He gestured towards a triangle device sitting on the nearby shelf. He pantomimed 'higher,' before walking around the stacked pile to distract her attention.

Face it," he confronted her. "You could end this war at any time. You like the killing and the fighting or you would have stayed on Cybertron until it was finished instead of taking it to other worlds, including endangering ours. When you need more fighters, you will breed."

"We femmes decided to wait until the war is over to create families," she coldly informed him, restraining her weapons from flowing out of subspace as her temper increased. The odd signal increased in power before disappearing off her trackers.

"Any excuse," he waved as though discarding the argument into the air. "You are taking the easy way out rather than explain to the next generation what you have done. 'Why mommy?" he raised his voice higher, "why did you allow our planet to die? Mommy, how many have you killed to feel their life crushed beneath your fingers? Mommy, why do you hate when I have to play nice?" he finished, seeing red color flowing into her optics, turning them a purple shade.

"Does it even compute the joy that life has? Or are you merely a dead machine pretending to be alive?" he asked then gasped as her rifle appeared out of thin air onto her arm and her finger slid naturally around the trigger.

Her internal warnings began blaring.

_**WARNING: HUMAN TARGETED. PROTECTED LIFE FORM. WARNING OVERRIDES DISENGAGED WEAPONS ACTIVE**_

The thundering of his voice and the hurt in her spark circled into a red rage through her processors. 'One blast and there would be nothing to identify. No, that's not right. We do not hurt humans,' she processed, fighting for processor stability. 'He's not human,' a part of her reasoned. 'They are capable of compassion and mercy. He's a Decepticon encased in flesh. A pretender.' In a blink, she lowered the power to its lowest functioning level as it tilted down towards them both.

"Run and do not stop. You want life then race for it," she snarled. They stared at her, mouths open and eyes wide. Targeting locks moved up to their eyes, she dragged it down and to the side of their feet. The pulse of her rifle barely made a zapping sound as she fired. They screamed, running for the exit door. Shots were alongside and never that close. "Tingle their skin and nothing more," she laughed, seeing them push and fight to get through the narrow space when the main roll up door was still open from her entrance.

Laughing, she jogged out that door, heading for the beach. Sitting on the sand, she watched the seagulls screaming overhead, occasionally diving into the sea for flotsam. Her battle systems lowered into a holding mode as she examined her reflection in the shine of the gun barrel.

"Elita, do not move," a mech voice stated but without the force of command. She rotated her neck cables to look over her shoulder. Red Alert stood there, his pulse rifle in his hand even as his shoulder rifle targeted her. Grimlock, in his Tyrannosaurus Rex mode towering over him. A distant part of her processor noted that the Dinobot's bright red and yellow armor clashed with Red Alert's shade of red armoring.

"Will you come peacefully to the brig or chose to be 'escorted?" the security officer asked, optics rolling up towards Grimlock then back to her in warning.

"Or I can escort you to med bay. This is Prime's old gun and its armed and ready before toothy there can roll forward," she advised, its the power setting responding to her thoughts and increasing to full power. Grimlock's jaw closed and tilted his head sideways in confusion. His systems recognized her combat readiness but no threat.

"Why me Grimlock here? Where battle?" the big mech asked, his red optics narrowing in confusion.

"You are needed as backup," Red Alert reminded, wincing as the Dinobot took two steps backwards.

"Me back up. We play now?"

"No, we play later. Escort Elita to the brig, my orders as I am in the in charge," the security officer commanded, nervous she would fire first and he had no doubt he would be the target.

"Why escort pretty femme to brig? She nice to Dinobots, take care of them," he stated, lowering his jaw her direction.

"Ask dumb bot there," she said, gesturing an armored hand his direction.

He looked around, optics widening as he scanned the entire area. "Me see Red Alert. Is dumb bot name for alt mode?"

"That and worse when Optimus returns," she muttered too soft for either of them to hear as her rifle returned to hiding in subspace. Grumbling, Elita stood up, brushing sand off her parts before patting Grimlock affectionately on his muzzle as she went by. He followed her all the way to the brig, chatting about the new games the Dinobots had learned to play in the desert practice drills on the mainland.

Returning her processors to the present, she scanned the black and white police car going by, relaxing when no energy signature identified it as anything but earth made. "Optimus probably has welded Red's aft to the nearest satellite after kicking him into space for his stupidity," she processed cheerfully. The mere mention of her spark mate had her engine humming. "I love when he slides his arms around me, holding with strength when he could crush me. Always afraid of hurting me in his passion when he rips Decepticon sparks out without a second coding line. Maybe he will be mad enough at me to be commanding? That would be nice. Demand instead of politely asking? A little dominating mech attitude?" Her engine revved, energon flowing freely through her lines. "Face it, Elita; you are a slave to your spark. And time to get moving."

_To be continued…_

_NEXT UP: Decepticon encounter_


	6. Chapter 6 Decepticon Attack

Author's notes: Thanks for the reviews. I hate writing fight sequences with descriptions but here goes. In Cybertron's past, Megatron ordered all femmes offlined, seeing their relationships with the mechs as a weakness. Any surviving femme has not only fought as an Autobot warrior but as a specific target because she is a femme. They know how to fight or they would not lasted to now. Thanks to ladyofdarkstar for the ruthless and cruel quote for Prime.

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High above the human roads, two fighter jets soared. Only enhanced vision would have discerned their alien markings or lack of a pilot in the cockpit. Only an advanced autonomous being would recognize them as Decepticons, designations Skywarp and Starscream.

::Quit your whining. Megatron will never offline again and his command follows us into death:: Skywarp

::We follow him into failure repeatedly. It is time for new leadership:: Starscream sent, tipping sideways and pulling closer to him.

::You and what army? Even Prime could not defeat him. However, I love to hear you begging as Megatron kicks your aft for failing in picking humans to do our work:: Skywarp teased then teleported out as Starscream's claws nearly raked his wing, the hand transformed out of his jet mode.

::I did not beg! And they failed, not me:: He snarled, then yelped as his cargo shifted again. ::Quit moving in there!:: Starscream ordered, retracting his hand.

::Stop playing saltshaker! You agreed to provide a ride not a roller coaster!:: Rumble sent, his folded cassette mode pinned flat, alongside Ratbat and Ravage's alt modes, against the inner wing plating as gravitational forces slung them all around.

::Next time fly yourselves:: Starscream retorted then straightened as long range detectors locked onto a faint Cybertronian signal. Skywarp teleported back, cutting jet engine thrust to drop down through the clouds in stealth mode.

::Are we landing finally?:: Ratbat

::Unknown contact:: Skywarp

::Recognize that bot's alt mode?::Starscream glided over the roadway, careful to not let his shadow fall across the vehicles. The faint signal moved in and out of the earth vehicles as it changed lanes.

::Negative, verifying now:: Skywarp scanned it, no energy signature or displayed faction identifiable to his records. ::Must be a neutral. All communications and broadcasts dampened, no identifiable symbol or weapons signatures but subspace would hide them. Think it is a trap?::

::We Decepticons fear no trap, we set them. He must be a neutral:: Starscream declared.

:: Worthless neutral. Civilian or misfit not worth making into a soldier. Surprised any are online:: Ratbat

::Neutrals are officially off limits:: Ravage

::We are not officially on a mission and this is not officially Cybertron, its earth:: Starscream sent, onlining his battle protocols. "Foolish bot, you will cower before the might of Starscream!"

Below them, the Lexus SUV abruptly swerved to the right, over the white fog line racing towards the exit ramp before continuing over the grass, disappearing into a stand of nearby pine trees.

::Don't let him get away:: Starscream commanded as they plummeted down, transforming into their bi pedal modes. The cassette shapes were thrown out, crashing into the ground before transforming.

::Fly the friendly skies you are not!:: Ravage

They all looked up as the Lexus engine raced, transforming into bi pedal mode. The seekers targeted her as she targeted them. They hesitated as the mech they were expecting turned out to be a femme, carrying only a large black rifle. Their optics traveled across her armor, to her smaller waist and up across her squared two piece chest shape and shoulders, bare of any cannon or balster. Her rounded helm was smooth, no Autobot or Decepticon symbol displayed. The deep red armor contrasting against her lighter protoform below as she braced in the sunlight filtering between the trees.

::Is that … that … that?:: Ravage's advanced scout system matched her protoform profile.

::Yup, we are slagged if she gets a scratch on her:: Rumble

::Pretty much. Should we warn them to back off?:: Ratbat

::Nope, I intend to watch and record every nano click:: Ravage sent, backing up and sitting down. The other cassette warriors joined him, red optics intense.

She fired first, her thinner lighter form diving to the side as they moved the same direction, colliding into each other.

"How big a gun she got?" Skywarp yelped, pushing Starscream away. He patted at his smoking armor, a hole blasted through his plating.

"Firepower is not everything," Starscream snarled, shaking his wing as nannites began sealing the edges of the hole blasted in it. His feet pads twisted, tearing chunks out of the grass. Red blazing optics narrowed in on her crouching form. "Surrender! And I will spare..."

Her weapons fire forced him to dive out flat, wings dropping as the heavy fire laced over his form. The trees exploded, showering fragments onto his frame as they cracked and fell. Burning wood scents filled the air to mix with a metallic tinge.

Skywarp fired back, scoring two glancing sear marks without striking. "She's fought before!"

"No pit! Pin her down with cross fire!" the seeker ordered, heaving to his knee and hand plates. The red and black of their weapons fire reflected in his silver armor even as the concussive booms of missed hits destroyed the trees. "Two can play this game,' he snarled mentally, dampening his systems to the bare minimum, pulling all energon and active energy to his core. He crouched before scuttling forward, his silver wingspan barely clearing the trees. Clumps of dark earth stuck to his silver claws.

Skywarp kneeled, firing left to right when her blast hit the ground in front of him. Automatically, his optics shuttered against the exploding earth and grass as her next shot slammed into his forearm plate as defensive battle coding raised his arm involuntarily. The plating buckled with the blast as his head rang with the impact but he survived.

Elita stepped forward, intent on the shot to shatter Skywarp's spark when her proximity alarms gave a flash of a warning. The black spiking charge snapped across her chassis, fading into the armor. Turning, her fingers tightened on the trigger then slowed until everything stopped. Motionless, her processors raced as her links and relays shut down.

"What are you doing?" Skywarp asked, heaving back to his feet. Optics were out but thermal imagery showed Starscream very close to her.

"What does it look like? Inspecting the prisoner. Soundwave's encoding has her looping mid code line, she's helpless," he snapped.

"You sure? Battle protocols state to never approach within attack range while," Skywarp shut up as the target locks from both of Starscream's arm blasters crossed over his spark. Ravage growled, lowering his muzzle towards the ground as Rumble and Ratbat winced.

"I am in command here, not you! And if I say she is helpless she is helpless before us!" he ranted, never discerning power levels fluctuating inside her.

_**ENGAGING EMERGENCY DEFENSIVE PROTOCOLS – CODING UNLOCK**_

Elita's chassis stayed frozen, as his armored hands wrapped around her waist plates. He leaned in close to her audios, "Not so defiant now femme hmmm? Megatron considers your kind a weakness. I consider you a prize. I have been waiting to catch one of you. What do you have for me?"

_**TIME TO RESET 5… 4… 3…. 2… 1… **_

He never saw her optics shutter or her lip plates twist into a snarl as her controls resumed.

**SNIKT!**

"ARGGGHHHH"! Starscream screamed as her reverse elbow blade went deep into his inner workings. Raising heel pads, she slammed the breaker surge into his foot, melting the top plating as he thrashed in panic. Her reverse blade slashed him upward before pulling out of his armor.

"You never learn. Same tricks, same pride 'Con." She kicked backwards, cracking his cockpit front as she dive rolled forward. The blasts from the Skywarp, meant for her, caught the seeker square on sending him over backwards, smoke billowing out of his front.

"Move next time Screamer!" Skywarp yelled, quickly aiming his hand blaster down at the ground. Elita fired once by his head, causing him to duck. Running, she jumped while tucking her legs to soar over him in an arching jump, landing on her armored hands before transforming back into her alt mode. Ravage and Ratbat moved too slowly, their armor crunching as she slammed her grill into them, throwing them up into the air. Rumble slid underneath, clawing and screaming before sliding under her rear tire and out the back.

'Glad I paid attention to Ironhide about mission city," Elita processed, 'never would have thought of rolling and jumping as a fight tactic for a bot my size.' The deep red SUV raced back to the road, all her electronic signals tightly dampened. 'Perfect,' she identified an oncoming car in the opposite lanes. A flash of light and she trans scanned down into a black Jaguar XK 2 door convertible. Slowing, she slid behind a silver semi trailer, the seekers blasting by overhead, never recognizing her.

An hour later, back in the clearing, Ratbat finished welding to reattach Ravage's leg.

"Hey, what about us?" Rumble yelled skyward when no seeker returned.

"I'm not a taxi," Ratbat snapped, inspecting his ripped wing. "We walk, that way," he pointed with a tilt of his head, "is the least amount of human settlement. Stay under cover and call Soundwave by morning. We'll be overdo and even Megatron will want to know where we are."

::How could this joor get any worse?:: Ravage commented, limping with every step. The cassettes stayed close to each other, moving slowly, listening for the roar of jet engines.

**PUFF! **

Red optics spun up as an energy charged net exploded overhead, dropping straight for them. The charge temporarily offlined them as heavy treads moved closer.

Ravage came online first, optics blazing. He snarled, rolling over and looking down the barrel of a familiar gun. He rose up a little higher, to see over it. ::No bot move. It is Prime:: Ravage

::Thank the dark one. He will offline. No explaining to Soundwave or Megatron:: Ratbat muttered, trying to pull his wing fragment over his optics.

Ironhide crouched, blue optics taking in their physical state. "What? Stop at the local playground and the kiddies beat you up?" he teased, his cannons rolling.

"Your mate," Rumble groaned.

"Chromia?" The black warrior gruffed. "Wouldn't mess with small fry like you."

::No, his spark mate:: Ravage swung his dented muzzle towards Optimus.

"Elita? You've seen her?" He shuttered his optics rapidly before snatching the feline mech up in his fist from under the net. "Where and when?"

"Find her! Find her ! Femme is crazy!" Rumble yelled, struggling against the net.

" Look what she did to us!" Ratbat dragged his wing across the ground, looking pitiful.

"Nothing compared to what I will do if you don't relay coordinates right now," Optimus threatened. They all began spouting the numbers, time and pointing back the way they had come. None of them mentioned Starscream or Skywarp, fearing what the Prime would do if he knew.

A breem later Prime and his team left the clearing, tracing the disappearing path back to the road amidst the destroyed trees. Traffic moved over, letting the blue and red flame painted semi into the lane, tailed closely a black GMC top kick pickup, followed by other exotic vehicles. Human drivers never realizing their engines were too loud to be earth made or the distressed venting of the lead vehicle.

Four hours later Elita pulled out of light stasis, groaning with cable strain. "Where? Abandoned logging mill, I remember. Storage depot." Transforming in her bi pedal mode, she shuddered with the pain coding. "Initiating self repair, now. Slimy pit spawn. I seriously need wash racks after his touch. Slag it, my power reserves are down again with that trans scan. I need energon soon at this rate. Anti virus fixed that stasis lock but nannites are taking too long. Hmm, Ratchet had a way to speed them up. Can't ask him. Wait, maybe I can ask his database. Medic keeps copies of everything to have his assistant First Aid read a thousand times,' She reasoned, heavily encrypting her personal link to Diego Garcia. 'Accessing now.'

::Elita, is that you?:: Ratchet

::No Autobot here by that name. Need medical files in the database and remote access of information is beyond the exile rules:: Elita sent back, downloading the information.

::The charges were dropped, you need to contact Prime now! And quit blocking access to your medical systems. If you are hurt, I need to know:: Ratchet sent, urgency to his tone.

:: I had a run in with Starscream and Skywarp. They might be monitoring. Going silent:: Elita sent, closing the line and feeling guilty.

"She what?" Optimus roared, his Peterbilt alt mode shaking as his brakes locked, sliding him sideways onto the gravel side.

"Had a run in with seekers and the cassettes," Ratchet repeated as he pulled over, careful to miss Ironhide's back bumper as he stopped and pulled over at the same time. "The files were for self repair enhancements and directed nannites control, all minor battle field level damage."

"If we can't locate her then find them," Optimus ordered.

"Signal locks acquired. One has a fluctuating field. Elita must have tagged him good," Ironhide rumbled.

"Nothing compared to what I intend," Optimus growled, his alt mode smokestacks blowing dark smoke.

They found them both in a field not far from their location. They approached with battle systems online and target locks engaged, the twins ready as Ironhide guarded Prime, staying in front of the larger mech. ::Angry and upset. Not good:: Ironhide

::He's worried:: Ratchet sent then went silent as mechanical voices could be heard.

"Hold still. The emergency patch failed again," Skywarp commanded. Starscream lay on the ground below the kneeling seeker. No sound was made nor signal given but somehow he detected them. With a shimmering sideways flash, he teleported away.

"Wiat, you were'nt finished!" Starscreeam yelled, sitting up as the blast struck, throwing him forward into the ground in a crumpled heap. A force clamped around his neck, unbreakable as it lifted, turning him around.

"Why?" the deep baritone of Optimus ground out through his battle mask as his grip tightened. Red began seeping across his optics, changing their color as his venting deepened.

Starscream stared at his darkening optics, cowering. "Please," he begged. "Mercy Prime. We didn't know it was her," he gasped, energon bubbling on his lip plates. Prime's optics narrowed at the frothy blue fluid. He snapped the Decepticon out full reach of his arm, distinguishing the deep penetrating wound in his front and the cockpit cracks.

"You even process her name," he stated, his vocal tone deep with his barely contained fury. "And Megatron will spend a vorn finding your pieces let alone identifying them." He crushed the neck plating then dropped the seeker like unwanted trash. His gun ratcheted without firing then swung to block Ratchet from moving forward.

"But Prime," the medic began, his repair protocols activated fully.

"Back off Ratchet! Only Autobots and neutrals receive medical care. Not Decepticons. They know the laws, including protections on neutrals," he stated in implicit warning. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker raised their swords, ready for any order to finish him off. "Get out of my sight."

The downed Decepticon shuddered before rocketing up and away, transforming as he blasted off. His flight path was erratic, black smoke trailing out of his engines.

"Starscream may not make it back to their base with that amount of internal damage," Ratchet warned.

"Not my problem," Prime said. "Finding Elita is."

Ironhide shrugged human style at the medic. :: What did you expect? He can be ruthlessly efficient without being overly cruel. Was in his rights to offline him and didn't::

::That ruthlessness is scarier than the thought of cruelty::Ratchet retorted.

_to be continued..._


	7. Chapter 7 Recovery and Restarting

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. Another new chapter for your reading enjoyment. I am willing to continue this fic as long as readers want, continuing their adventures even when Prime and Elita get back together. Two chapters after this one are almost ready to post and will be up quicker than the last time gap. Life and a lack of physical energy got in the way. I am doing better and more normal now.

Fan fiction was working on the site this weekend (January 26, 2010) and posts and reviews are already a day behind in appearing.

Cybertron Time - Breem – 8.3 minutes, Joor – 6.5 hours, Orn – 13 days. Vorn – 83 years.

TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TRANSFORMERS

_**Optimus Team – Continuing search**_

"I understand, we will honor the promise made," Optimus stated, none of his emotions reflecting across the transmission. The Peterbilt semi remained still, engines on standby while parked in the campground. His team surrounded him in their alt modes, adding comfort and forming a protective guard to a Prime who was not focusing on his own safety.

"And Optimus," Major Lennox added, his voice soft over the transmission signal. "She can take care of herself. You will find her. I have no doubt. Lennox out."

"A dance?" Ironhide echoed as the transmission line closed. "They need us to keep a promise to attend a human event, with our holograms only, because no one there will have clearance to know alien mechs are in the parking lot? We can't drink or eat with strange humans being a hologram. What idiocy is that?"

"Human officials are not elected for their intelligence," Hound reminded. His alt mode of a green army jeep had drawn a variety of reactions, salutes and tears in the eyes of old men who had served, jeers from young people who saw only a symbol of war and aggression. He understood more than the other Transformers the weird ways of their new world.

"It's been over fifteen joors since the attack and no sign of Elita," Optimus stated. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker vented, wanting action and uncomfortable with their leader's moping. Ratchet rocked on his frame, resisting the urge to transform and beat sense into him with wrenches. Their leader 's engines roared to life before settling into a muted hum.

"We will continue the search after the event. Autobots, roll out," he commanded. Driving down the road toward the city, he sent one final data packet.

"_I love you Ariel, your Orion."_

**Rural Farm - Far field turnaround**

Elita pulled out of recharge, barely processing as multiple systems began reporting. The sounds of a nearby cow calling to its calf jolted her awareness into full recognition. Transforming, her weapon pulled out of subspace into her waiting armored hand.

_Defensive alerts: None_

_Perimeter: Clear of electronic signals. Bio organic beings detected. Threat nominal._

_Self- Repair: 88 % complete. Unable to access main data frame link._

"That's because I enabled a lock so I could not be tracked back," she grumbled, ignoring the external smells and sounds of the nearby cow pasture. Her internal clock updated the last time stamp, tagging an inbound message before dumping it into a holding que.

"Four days? I have been out for four earth days! Pit, that was dangerous," she realized.

_Energon levels: 44% and in use. Recommend top up in next joor. _

"And where do you suggest I go?" she grumped. "I never realized being an exile could be so hard. I understand why so few ever chose it. On Cybertron I could raid a fuel depot, make my own or find hidden stashes planetwide. Wheeljack found a way to process this world's excuse for usable fuel in an emergency but I never got that conversion. Solar power was my excuse to lie out on the beach for Optimus to admire my form. Slag it, does everything come back to him?" Her report sorter beeped, reminding her they were still in a holding queue.

_Personal messages: 1,078 inbound. 0 outbound. _

"How many?" she exclaimed, pulling the detail.

_1 Soundwave, Decepticon tactical_

_1 Megatron, Decepticon Supreme Leader of all Decepticon Forces_

_1 Red Alert, Earth forces Chief Security (inactive)_

_2 Prowl, Second in Command and Security Officer_

_2 Chromia, Autobot sharpshooter_

_2 Ironhide, Autobot Weapons specialist_

_2 Sideswipe & Sunstreaker, Autobot Warriors_

_41 Bumblebee, Autobot scout_

_134 Ratchet, Autobot Chief Medical Officer_

_892 Optimus, Autobot Prime_

"Decepticon messages? How the slag? Soundwave," her optics flickered with red. "Hacked our system to leave a message. No virus, no encoding or obvious traps. Hmm, open those first."

**[Leave cassettes alone] Soundwave**

"I should reply and tell him to teach them to move faster," the femme folded her arms, watching two blue birds hop from the nearby tree onto the ground and began searching for something. One found a worm, grabbing it in its beak and she shuddered. "This planet is creepy. Being eating being. Then again, Megatron takes our spark energy to offline those he defeats. And what does he want?"

**[Starscream's attack was unauthorized, even if you are not a neutral. His punishment begins once repairs are complete. I reviewed the incident and enjoyed it many times. Your skills are wasted with the Autobots. Give my regards to Prime] Megatron, Supreme Commander **

"Arrogant mech. Wasted? I think not," she growled as her hatred of him increased. "Might as well check the others first before Prime's," she processed and began uploading them quickly, skipping Red Alert's, being tagged with _apology_ and _high priority._

**[Please file a report on the encounter with Decepticon forces. Attacks on neutrals are not allowed under Cybertron law] Prowl**

**[Please file an itinerary on your estimated return date to ensure a proper welcome] Prowl**

"Sounds like he is waiting for me to return. Let's see what my favorite couple want."

**[We spend ten thousand years reaching earth and our mates for you to leave? You have a processor loose. Get back here for me to kick it into functioning] Chromia**

**[Enough is enough. Quit acting like a spoiled youngling with her first mech suitor] Chromia**

**[Get your aft home, Prime needs you] Ironhide**

**[Are you back yet? Tired of babysitting these emotional revenge happy younglings] Ironhide**

"Ouch, they are not happy. Twins hmm? Same messages from both," Elita noted.

**[Are you all right? We will slag the 'Cons for you. Prime said no but you can say yes? You are both commander rank and one okay means go ] Sideswipe, Sunstreaker**

**[Return to base and make big bot happy and off our cases. He's been a real down bot] Sideswipe, Sunstreaker**

"Forty one from our quietest and youngest?"

**[Miss you; want to know you are okay] Bumblebee**

**[Miss you, doing fine here. Sam and Mikeala ok. You home soon? ] Bumblebee**

**[Wish you were here. Rest is normal] Bumblebee**

**[Can we talk? Miss you] Bumblebee**

**[I can sneak away, others never know. Buzz me] Bumblebee**

Elita stopped them, scanning them super speed. Each were variations of the same until the last one.

**[Optimus needs you, I need you. We are both hurting. Please come back] Bumblebee**

"Ahh," she pouted, feeling guilty about the little yellow mech's distress. "None of Ratchet's are marked with field protocols, requiring me to obey. Skip those. Odd, Prime has four messages regarding our rules on testifying and witnesses, two on dismissal of charges for lack of procedure but the rest are coded differently.

**[I love you Ariel] Orion Pax**

**[I love you Ariel] Orion Pax**

**[I love you Ariel] Orion Pax**

**[I love you Ariel] Orion Pax**

**[I love you Ariel] Orion Pax**

**[I love you Ariel] Orion Pax**

**[I love you Ariel] Orion Pax**

**[I love you Ariel] Orion Pax**

**[I love you Ariel] Orion Pax**

**[I love you Ariel] Orion Pax**

**[I love you Ariel] Orion Pax**

**[I love you Ariel] Orion Pax**

**[I love you Ariel] Orion Pax**

**[I love you Ariel] Orion Pax**

**[I love you Ariel] Orion Pax**

**[I love you Ariel] Orion Pax**

**[I love you Ariel] Orion Pax**

**[I love you Ariel] Orion Pax**

**[I love you Ariel] Orion Pax**

**[I love you Ariel] Orion Pax**

**[I love you Ariel] Orion Pax**

**[I love you Ariel] Orion Pax**

**[I love you Ariel] Orion Pax**

**[I love you Ariel] Orion Pax**

**[I love you Ariel] Orion Pax**

She stopped the messages, realizing they were the same. "Time stamp is different on each one," Elita paused, feeling the message behind the words. Their relationship existed before her as commander and him as Prime. "It's his way of saying he needs me and reminding me who I am with him. And I need him." She rubbed at a dent on her armor, processing hard to determine her next route.

"Chromia and Ironhide are right. I have spent enough time alone. All I wanted while apart was to find Optimus. Time to return and deal with the consequences. Guarantee exile will not be an option. If I know him, and I do after centuries, he always keep a record log of locations should his main chronometer unit get destroyed," the femme commander began strategizing.

"Activating encryption now." Digitally, she uplinked into the Autobot mainframe at Diego Garcia, zeroing in on his specific files. The system recognized her, allowing full access. The events scanned, downloaded and she withdrew, without triggering alarms.

"A dinner and dance? Ah, political fundraiser and he made the commitment before I left. Hmm, Prime would honor his word and attend with his officers. Time to crash the party," the femme smirked.

She scanned the files, discerning each vehicle would be checked against a list."Perfect, recognize that name. Base liaison that the twins chased out two weeks before I left. Driving a silver Chevrolet Camaro, license plate GVT 007. Hmm, should not be that hard to find." A quick access of the internet provided the location of a local car dealership that carried those models. An hour later, the femme scanned one, changing the color to silver and rearranging her license plate to match.

"Ready and roving," she murmured before darkness overtook her. Rousing, she twitched in her new alt mode, feeling odd.

_**Energon levels: 28% and in use. Trans scan disabled. Recommend top up immediately. **_

"Top up? Right after I get with my mate and find out how much trouble I really am in. Ratchet will be more than happy to see I refuel after Chromia and Ironhide leave holes in my chassis. Other than that, should be quite the welcome when I return," Elita said.

Her silver Chevrolet Camaro alt mode rolled out onto the main road, course charted for the city and the waiting dance.

_To be continued..._


	8. Chapter 8 Crashing a party

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. Time to crash the party. Optimus is famous for his one-liners and monologue, especially in battle with the Decepticons or Megatron. I figure after thousands of years with him, Elita would have picked up the habit. Now to sneaking in and getting what you want and deserve.

Cybertron Time - Breem – 8.3 minutes, Joor – 6.5 hours, Orn – 13 days. Vorn – 83 years.

TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TRANSFORMERS

**Dance and Political Fundraiser – Main Gates**

The silver Chevrolet Camaro pulled up to the mansion's main gates, the driver a young blond haired woman wearing a black cocktail dress. Security checked the front license plate and her held up photo id as the armed Marine guard stood nearby. The man never touched the id, only double-checking the name.

"Confirm, let her through," the Sergeant ordered, his command causing both soldiers to step aside, their fingers remaining on their triggers without the intention of firing. Saliently Elita approved of their readiness while amused at the ease of her ruse. 'They should have known the liaison was male and not female. But the name Samantha covered the Sam first name.'

She rolled down the curving driveway past the trimmed trees and ornate arches to the grass area roped off for spare parking. A young human dressed in a white jumpsuit waved her to the next open space. Elita pulled into the parking space, her holographic driver nodding and pretending to fiddle with her purse as the human jogged back to start the next row.

'Time to upgrade my image,' the femme processed while activating her hologram core changer. Two adjustments and she became taller and slimmer. Her normally blonde shoulder length hair darkening to coal black with the faintest pattern of soft curls. The cocktail dress draped down into a white sparkled flowing hem with a pink bow tie on one shoulder.

"Still missing something," she murmured then grinned. Looking over, the fabric simulation on her other shoulder disappeared, revealing a wide swath of skin. The front neckline raised then scalloped out too wrap around her neck, with two long pink pieces flowing across an open back, showing more skin. 'Not my usual type but it works, since holographic skin feels neither warm nor cold,' she processed, moving gracefully forward. The hem of her dress swirled, moving with her slow steps. 'How do human femmes manage these things? My balance compensators would be aching if this was my true form.'

_**Energon levels: 19% and in use. Trans scan disabled, holographic emitter estimated time to failure one joor on available resources. Advise refill immediately. **_

"Drop into a pit," she snarled. "I don't need energon reminders every time I move." The noises of the party swirled out the double font doors. Passing through, her sensors compensated for the distance, relaying the images. A nearby conversation caught her attention.

"Sweet rides though the tricked out semi was odd. Who drives one of those to a fundraiser?" The first man asked his companion, both in tuxedos and expensive jewelry.

"The spoiled rich kid would be my guess. Red and blue flames paint job means money to burn," he chuckled.

"Or some millionaire trucking owner. Takes all types at one of these things. Think we can corner the senator? My company needs that military contract," their voices faded off as she continued walking forward.

"Optimus is here," Elita smirked before composing her human expression. She glanced around for his hologram without seeing it. "Prowl and Ironhide," she gasped then froze, turning half way around, a drink materializing in her hand. The tall crystal glass matched the ones carried around on trays for guests to take. Taking a pretend sip, she stepped behind several humans, putting distance between her and the two men with intense blue eyes. 'Optimus will be on the balcony, always taking the high point to observe yet reachable.' Clutching one edge of the dress hem to mimic the other women, she stayed on the wall side of the grand staircase as she climbed. Ratchet's hologram passed her, muttering softly to himself without stopping or a flicker of recognition. He adjusted his simulated glasses, his eyes intent on the steps and not those around him. Climbing the last step, she went out and around the human couple blocking her path, the pair oblivious to everything but their conversation.

Her spark flared when she saw his holo leaning against the wall, dressed in a formal tuxedo. Blue-black short hair, his distinct features and an air of authority only a lifetime of command could create. His back rested on the wall even as his shoulders drooped.

'Is he bored? No, not bored, sick? Holograms do not get sick.' Yet, there was a paleness to his appearance and his normally bright blue eyes appeared dull and rarely moved to those around him. A red head human female in a flowing green dress stopped to flirt with him. He merely shook his head, made a gesture Elita could not see clearly and returned to his head down pose. The human female made one more attempt at conversation then continued walking. Elita approached slowly, leaving her pretend glass on a nearby cabinet, moving in front of it to hide its disappearance into a sparkle of mini lights.

"Hey handsome," she greeted with a silky purr to her voice. "Need company tonight?"

He barely raised his eyes, looking at her before dropping back down. "I'm spoken for, but thank you," he said, fingering the ring on his left hand.

She frowned, looking down at the matching one on her hand. Both were simulated gold, engraved with the Autobot symbol and the Cybertronian glyphs for their true names, Ariel and Orion. Both rings were an addition from Hound to their holo programs and the engraved images a gift from Wheeljack. Granted, it took alien optics to discern the engraved micro image details or a human with a powerful magnifying glass but hers was an exact match to his.

"One lucky lady then," Elita commented softly, her voice indistinct while folding her hands to hide the ring.

"I was the lucky one," he sighed, seeming to wilt a little more. His normal regal baritone was flat and she resisted the urge to smack him up the side of his head to snap him out of his emotions. 'Problem with holograms is they seem physical but are not. My punch would have no force and his light image has no sensors to echo pain. I can't leave him alone for an astro second,' she processed then softened.

"If you change your mind, come find me. And for a Prime you can be thick chipped Orion," she commented, looking over her bare shoulder as she walked away. He shrugged and two steps further away her hologram ducked behind approaching humans. Dissolving it, she snapped full awareness to her physical body, engaging her engine to leave the area.

Optimus sighed and then blinked as her statement actually registered. "Prime? She called me Orion!" His eyes blazed as he swayed back and forth, trying to spot her in the crowd.

_EMERGENCY AUTOBOT COMMAND ALL CALL- PRIME _

::Elita is here! New holographic image:: Optimus sent the data image as his shape descended the stairs partway to get a better view of the room below.

:: Wow. Nice altered image:: Ironhide

::Double-checking the security images. 99 % probability confirmation of Elita. Holographic image dissolved after your encounter Prime. External cameras show no recognized alt mode at the gates before or after:: Prowl

::No sign of her east side parking areas:: Sideswipe

::Faint Cybertronic signal detected west-parking area. Slag! Lost it already:: Sunstreaker

_AUTOBOT COMMAND ALL CALL - FEMME COMMANDER_

::Meet me alone Prime. I would like to discuss returning:: Elita

::Where?:: Optimus

::These coordinates:: Elita sent the location for a nearby flat area out past the mansion. Dotted by trees and the high estate walls, it offered privacy.

::Autobots, stay at the party. I will handle this:: Prime

::Negative. Could be a trap:: Prowl advised, his hologram sighing as Optimus holo reached the front doors and disappearing into shimmering lights, startling the incoming guests.

"Least he waited for a doorway," Ironhide's hologram commented, his square features frowning as one massive hand ruffled his short dark hair.

::Prowl, trust your logic. 99% Elita does not mean 1% trap. Stay alert and I will signal if I require assistance:: Optimus ordered, closing the comm line.

A few cars dotted the nearer edge of the drive, workers for the party so no one saw the red and blue-flamed semi start itself and drive across the lot and out the side gate designated of the Autobot's use.

_To be continued..._


	9. Chapter 9 Reunion and a new surprise

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. What would have been one long chapter was broken into the last one and this one. Walked a fine line between mated couple and smut. Took time to keep it clean and get the feelings across. And while I believe in romance and enjoying your mate there is NO SMUT or SLEAZE in this fic. Kids read these and I will not add to their moral corruption, rated T or not.

_Spark call_is a term referring to sparkmates being able to recognize each other's sparks as a single entity. _Sparkbite _is the protective reaction of the spark to defend itself to the offlining if needed. The sparkbite warns another mech not to attempt a spark merge. Spark call reassures the mated pair they are one spark, one soul combined and is only felt by them between them.

TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TRANSFORMERS

Elita waited in the dimming light, ignoring the low energy warnings as her solar power collectors shut down. The trees swayed in the evening breeze, rustling the leaves. The setting sun reflected off her silver bi pedal mode revealing her basic form with few modifications. "After I top up I am so changing back to a rose colored convertible." The sound of a powerful roaring engine became noticeable. "Right on time and going full tilt from the sound of it."

::I'm here:: Elita

::Do not move:: Optimus

::Wasn't planning to:: She responded lightly, slightly puzzled at the intensity in his mental tone.

Headlights pierced the darkness as he rounded the last corner, sliding off the road and racing across the grass. The sound of transform was nearly lost under his brakes. Shifting, moving, her mech formed out of the Peterbilt semi heading directly for her.

'He's going too fast,' she barely processed as he completed the transform, lengthening out and reaching for her with his arms outstretched. With a grace unequal to a mech his size, he wrapped his arms around her, spinning them both through the air and landing on his back, sliding a deep gouge with their mass.

Chuckling, he began moving his lips plates over her features. Her form lay across his chest plates and thighs, pinned down by his arms.

"Hey now," she giggled, raising her helm back a bit.

"No," he rumbled, his blue optics intense. "I did not make myself clear before or you would not have left."

"You're not thinking of interfacing out here?" she exclaimed.

He raised an optic arch, "I am not Ironhide nor Sideswipe to do that publicly and that is not my intention. Mere physical attention. You need to remember who we are. My team will ensure we are not disturbed." She recognized the faint sounds of his internal transformation cogs. A blue light flared through the increasing center gap in his chest plates. Her spark began pulsing in response to his. His chest plates slid apart as his spark blazed. "Our spark call fills my processors as your frame fills my arms," he murmured.

Ratchet's hummer alt mode slowed at the road's curve, his medical sensors detecting their uprising spark energy.::I am falling back to these coordinates. Elita and Prime are...busy. I will examine her later:: Ratchet

::Go Prime!:: Sunstreaker

::Told you he would welcome her back:: Sideswipe

::Enough younglings. Protect the perimeter. Slaggin 'Cons tried to offline her once. Any bot getting past you will have me to deal with. And you had better be near offline to let them pass or the Cons and I will have something in common:: Ironhide

::Cranky attitude?:: Sideswipe

::High power weapons?:: Hound

::Being battle happy?:: Sunstreaker

:::Slagging your sorry aft without hesitation:: Ironhide sent, closing the comm line with a warning growl.

They guarded the couple, pointedly ignoring the energy spikes on their advanced sensors. The twins began keeping count until Ironhide threatened to count the pranks he knew of, and Prime didn't, and tell him each one.

Sunrise found them waiting on the sides of the roads in their alt modes, watching the last of the party guests leaving and the clean-up crews arriving.

In the clearing, Optimus pulled out of recharge, the weight of the recharging femme warm and reassuring on his chest plates. He remained flat on his back, his systems on standby with self-repair fixing a few strained transform cogs in his shoulder. His bright blue optics focused on her face, tilted to the side with her optics shuttered.

'My beautiful Ariel,' he processed lovingly, running an armored hand down her back plates.

"Hmm," she murmured, her optics fluttering open. Raising her helm, she focused on him, wincing as internal warnings flashed across her optics.

"Did I hurt you?" Optimus immediately asked, his concern showing on his faceplates.

"No, sensitive on my protoform but self repair will fix it," she said, laying her helm back down. "I could lay here forever."

"As you wish femme," he answered, moving his lip plates across the top of her helm. "Though I have enough dirt up my backside to be uncomfortable."

"Not my fault you're mass heavy but that grab and slide was impressive. And unable to be avoided."

"That was my goal," he chuckled, his mirth vibrating the metal she was laying on.

"Do we have to move?"

"Overhead satellites, camera phones, and paparazzi tracking party guests should not be a problem. Major Lennox will understand our identities being posted on the World Wide Web," he teased.

"Last night was a better show. Would have been a web hit," she teased back, venting and lifting herself up, twisting to tuck her feet and stand on the ground next to him. He rolled the opposite direction, leveraging on one elbow to allow dirt and grass clods to fall off. He rose, dropping more dirt off as he stood to full height, flexing and moving his arms.

She scanned the area, noting the Autobot's locations when the ground felt like it was tilting under her. Feet pads sunk, bracing as the daylight flickered. Optimus' hydraulics hissed as he moved closer. "Elita?"

She started to answer then sagged falling into his arms. His strong armored hands caught her, holding nearly her full weight.

"Elita!"

"Energon levels low, need to reset," She straightened, weakly kicking as he swung her up into his arms. "I said low not offline."

"Let me verify," he stated, tapping into her systems with a direct wrist connection.

_**Energon levels: 8% and in use. Immediate refill required, emergency overrides in effect. Self-diagnostics offline. Medical verification required.**_

"Ratchet is en route, hold on," he stated, even as his systems hitched higher with anxiety.

"You hold on Optimus. I'm not a youngling and I can stand if you let me," she grumped, unable to free herself. Pushing on his chest plates and kicking made him tighten his grip to almost painful levels.

"Yes femme?" He asked, engaging his battle mask as she struck at his face plates.

"Put me down."

"No."

"Prime!" she snarled.

"Yes Commander?"

"Enough already. I want down, now," she ordered.

"I wanted you by my side, forever," he stated calmly, his expression hidden behind the battle mask.

She winced, unable to process a comeback. 'Obviously I'm forgiven not forgotten.' Ratchet's alt mode rolled into sight, transforming to his bi pedal mode, blue multi layered optics spinning in full medical scans. Approaching them, he stumbled yellow green armored hands flailing before recovering his balance.

"Can't be, can it?" He said, striding right up to them. His optics focused on her before a grin formed across his lip plates. "Prime, hold her gently. I need to triple check this scan." His expression turned serious.

"Elita, I need you to listen carefully. Your system is pulling energon and engaging protective protocols. Do not trans scan any alt mode, or other high-level activity. I am pulling battlefield rank on this one. No exceptions to these orders. Any attempt to disobey or fight if we are attacked and I will stasis lock you immediately. Do you understand? "

"Why?" she asked, getting worried as Optimus retracted his battle mask.

"Ratchet?" He asked, his venting becoming rapid. "What's wrong? Did … last night… was it?"

"Exactly and yes, your spark tango is the reason," he teased, the grin returning. "It's a sparkling essence. Four earth days from now, you will be parental units. Congratulations."

"We did?" He said, optics going wide.

"Yes, congratulations to you both," Ratchet chuckled. "Elita's systems reinforced her energy core systems, storing against future emergencies to protect the life essence." He shifted his leg plate out, removing a sealed energon container. "Take this and refill once we reach Diego Garcia and heed my warning. No high-energy use or you will redline. Protocols will protect the essence, even costing you operating functionality."

Optimus' spark call sang to hers with indescribable joy, tinged with concern over her condition. She sent the same emotions flowing back, delight added.

_To be continued..._

_Author's Notes: Yes, a sparkling. And will Optimus be Mr. Sensitive and cuddle Prime? Nope. She's back but he's in charge and will deal with the wayward femme in his own way, or at least he will try. Stay tuned. _


	10. Chapter 10 Return and recharge

Author's Notes: Thanks for the wonderful reviews and suggestions. I have tried to fit many of them in here but not all. Do not take it personal if yours was missed. May appear next chapter or later. Fan fiction was down again. I was unable to load this when it was first ready and have been trying for two days.

Femmes carry a spark five days from creation to transfer to shell. Fifth day is the sparklings first day in its metal form. In between it gets fun as they progress through stages only a femme can. They do carry different protocols and programs than a mech and those engage only when carrying a sparkling and in response to her surroundings.

TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TRANSFORMERS

**Day 1 – Return to Diego Garcia, NEST base**

"With Elita carrying, does he seriously process he is going to be a match for an over wired protocol protective femme? Chromia nearly ripped Ironhide apart when she was carrying. And he was practically crawling on his hands and knee pads in pure delight at the thought of their sparkling," Ultra Magnus said. The tall red, white and blue Commander stopped, glancing down at his fellow mechs.

"Optimus has lead us for thousands of years in impossible situations against overwhelming odds without blowing a processor. He loves her and spent how long trying to find her? That commitment is from the spark and he is not a mech to back down from a yelling femme," Sideswipe shrugged human style, rolling back and forth on his wheels.

"She will do more than yelling. You're too young to have seen a carrying femme, we have," Ultra Magnus said.

"You survived, other mechs have survived. The Allspark is gone, we don't have a choice. They quarrel, disagree and then what? Spark again," Sideswipe argued.

"More like clash of the most stubborn sparkmates ever coming!" Hound joked. All three turned to look back at med bay where a very important conference was about to begin. The green armored scout could have listened in with his advanced detection equipment but had manners. The mechs continued their rounds, checking in with the perimeter guards and active sensor systems.

**Inside Med Bay **

"Prime, listen to me now, and hear me later when you replay this for your sanity but understand. A carrying femme's systems will change depending on her protocols. Usual first day is normal then the normal pattern is a day of heavy recharge or continual resting and low activity as the spark essence solidifies. Then a high-energy mode with the femme preparing for the sparklings arrival. I suggest you stay out of her way from then until the sparkling is ready to transfer. "

"I am staying with her. She is my mate always and forever," Optimus declared, looking stern and commanding. Ratchet vented, clearly not getting his point across.

"Elita ran dangerously low on energon following multiple trans scan and battle with the Decepticons. Her recharge time will run longer but her...processor stability may be questionable. The degree of her temper before sparking is merely an indicator of how bad her "mood" can get while protecting the essence she carries. Ergo stay on the good side of Elita One or you will regret it," the medic stated.

"In other words, Elita will eat mechs for breakfast and Primes for dessert," Ironhide grumbled.

"She is a Cybertronian female who is perpetually armed with implements of massive immediate destruction," First Aid reminded. He winced at the commanding glare and slid behind his boss Ratchet before heading to hide in the back office.

"Elita's self-control is known; even with the coding enhancer affecting her she was able to rein in her temper. On the battlefield or off, she is collected even when under pressure, hence why she's the Femme Commander and sparkmate to a Prime!" Optimus challenged, crossing his blue and red armored arms across his chest plates.

"Then find a nice large container to carry," Ratchet snapped, slamming both hands onto the medical berth.

"She will purge her tanks?" He asked, venting as his worry returned.

"No, for the parts she will rip off of you and every other mech whom her optics focuses on. And you are dropping dirt all over my clean, sterile med bay!" he fumed, gesturing towards the main doors. "Go hit the wash racks before I have to clean and replace your parts instead of just replacing them later." The chief medical officer spun on his feet pads, stomping towards the storeroom while grumbling.

"Let's go before grumpy starts giving demonstrations of bad behavior," Ironhide said, striding towards the main doors. Optimus followed, optics wincing as a large dirt clod dislodged with his movements, falling and breaking on the pristine white floor.

"The divot in the lawn area was sizeable," he sheepishly admitted

"Sizeable?" Ironhide snorted. "Matched your arrival comet crater Prime. Need a dump load of dirt to fill it first before laying down new grass. Or convert it into an olympic size swimming pool. Just add water."

**Autobot Personal Quarters**

Optimus entered their private room, his optics shining at the sleeping silver form on the bed. Elita lay on her side, optics closed as she recharged on their berth. The armor color and general shape were wrong but he knew her spark call instantly. Traces of mud remained on her feet pads, her chassis bearing residual dings and dents self-repair had not yet corrected. His optics moved up her slender frame, noting how both her arms rested across her chest plates protectively.

"Still beautiful," he murmured, moving closer. Venting softly, he reached an armored hand to touch above her spark. "I'm waiting to hold you for the first time little one. To feel your movements, see your optics open and focus, knowing you are wanted. All I have done to gain peace is nothing compared to what I must now do to ensure you reach an age to have your own sparklings." He crouched, touching his lip plates across Elita's helm. "I thought loving you was my greatest joy and now you give me hope for our race. A new Prime." Rising with a hiss of hydraulics, he started for the door, turning to look at her over his shoulder. "Never leave me again Ariel, my spark cannot take it."

**Day 2 – Recharge and refuel**

Optimus' timer beeped, drawing him out of recharge and triggering the ceiling lights. He unshuttered his optics, momentarily confused by the silver span of metal directly in front of him. Rising up on one elbow, he smiled in recognition as Elita shifted closer to his form. He noted her arms still rested across her chest above the spark. "Time to waken my love," he whispered in her audio.

"Mmmmmm," she vocalized, moving one arm to cover her optics. Smirking, he ran a hand down her waist plates, dragging it across her front and up her mid plate. Finding the exact gap in her plates, he tapped it lightly. Shifting, she moved and giggled before pushing at his hand.

"Tickle tickle little femme, my pretty pink gem," he teased while wiggling his fingers.

"Uhhh Orion! Stop," she laughed and slapping his hand. Her optics opened and he stopped, relieved at the sheer blazing power of their color.

"Energon is there," he pointed to the containers sitting on the nearby shelf. His optic arches rose as she grabbed, no lunged for them and drank them down with an unusual speed. "Remind me to have you challenge Sideswipe at the next high grade slugging contest. You'd win."

"Ratchet informed me *gulp gulp * I would pull more energon after *gulp slurp* going below 10% levels," Elita reminded while slugging the third cube down and grabbing the fourth. "It's not like *gulp gulp * we femmes put weight on like human females when carrying. My tanks were low."

He did not comment, sending a confirmation to Ratchet about the amount she refueled and made himself a note to add more energon cubes for her next refill. Venting softly, she dabbed at the energon drops on her face then accepted the cloth he offered.

"Got you trained to clean up messes already," she teased, tossing it onto the nearby shelf. In half a breem, she was back recharging, curled on her side against him.

::All officers, please update your reports and send them to me. I am in my quarters and am not to be disturbed unless it is a Decepticon attack or major emergency. Prowl is joint command with Ultra Magnus, Ironhide and Kup are next. Chromia then Arcee has command of the femme teams. Any questions?:: Optimus

::Can I brig the twins as a precaution?:: Prowl

::No Prowl, you have asked that before and my answer will not change:: Optimus

::I say go for it. One less processor problem:: Ironhide

::Hence why you are back up command:: Ultra Magnus

::My cannons have saved your aft and back plenty of times high boy:: Ironhide

::Children behave:: Optimus

:Practicing Prime? One sparkling on the way and you want more already? Children, I am your father:: Chromia

::Lots of mini Primes? Now that is a scary thought:: Ironhide

::Not as scary as Elita in two days:: Kup

::I heard that:: Optimus rumbled.

::No, we will hear you. I have been there, done that and Ironhide got replated armor to prove it:: Chromia chuckled.

::Emergency contact only:: Optimus sent then closed the comm lines. He watched Elita, memorizing every inch of her before he fell into recharge himself.

The pattern repeated throughout the day, her pulling out of recharge, and topping up her energon tank then slipping back to recharge. In the evening, Optimus traded places with Chromia, leaving her to guard and monitor Elita for a quick medical conference.

**Autobot Med Bay**

"Are you sure she's not carrying a group of sparks? I don't use that much energon!" Optimus asked, pacing back and forth between the medical berths.

"Enjoy it while you can. Next stage is using that energon to clean and set your space for the sparkling. Wheeljack is finishing the miniature designs of a recharge bunk and washing area. They will be ready, will you?" Ratchet asked.

"I don't know," he admitted, stopping mid stride. "Even the matrix has no guidance on raising a sparkling. I fear Megatron."

"He wouldn't offline it would he?"

"No, I fear him taking and warping it as the Fallen warped him. Evil cannot create, it can only steal and corrupt. Megatron could have been Prime and I the one corrupted. With our sparkling, it will be the only target once he learns of its existence," Optimus admitted.

Ratchet softened. "You crossed to the matrix and back to save Sam. I have no doubt you would do the same for you sparkling."

"I hope never to have to," he said. "And Primus help any bot challenging Elita."

"Even you?"

"I am her mate, not any bot. And her carrying does not excuse her dereliction of duty or failure to contact me. She wanted to discuss her returning. We have much to discuss," he said.

_To be continued..._

_Next: Day 3 cleaning and protocol reset. On your mark, get ready, flee!_


	11. Chapter 11 A Prime conversation

Author's Notes: Thanks for the wonderful reviews and suggestions. Everyone and everybot wants to be in love with grand ideas of harmony and to be one from two separate souls with their love to spark the next generation. Then reality sets in and you wonder what the slag you were fantasizing! Prime is about to discover being spark mated to a femme commander named Elita One is his greatest joy _and_ his greatest processor strain.

Thanks to Phoenix13 for the image of Elita with a gun and greeting Optimus. I have been a firefighter and EMT as well as a martial artist. When I am hormonal or temper watch out! Add a weapon and protection protocols and even Megatron would run from Elita! Her last alt mode was a silver car to sneak into the party and she cannot change her alt mode back until after the sparkling is born.

TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TRANSFORMERS

"Where's Elita?" Optimus asked, striding into the main Autobot hangar. His red and blue colored frame turned slightly to observe the entire area. The early morning sun reflected off his armor as he moved. Both mechs faced him, neither matching his optics. Humans suddenly found tasks that required them elsewhere than inside the hangar.

"Scheduled obstacle course and then the target range, light duty," Prowl noted, effortlessly pulling her schedule from the main server. His optics remained dim as he rapidly searched the security cameras around the base for her exact location.

"Why?" he asked, pinching his nose plates with an armored hand, his favorite human gesture he had adapted to show both frustration and the controlling of his temper. If his silver armored fingers were on his face with optics closed, he was less likely to subspace a weapon or attempt to strangle which bot he was facing.

"She did not specify a reason Prime," Prowl offered, his black and white armored wing doors tilted higher with his tension.

Optimus deliberately assumed a neutral, non-threatening position. "Ratchet believes she is in a cleaning and organizing mode today. She was rearranging our quarters with Wheeljack when I left. She was supposed to meet me here after my conference call."

"Chromia did that too," Ironhide grunted. He pretended to wipe a smudge off his arm cannon. "Clean and rearrange then I hid."

"Afraid she'd throw you out or hold you in the wash racks?" Optimus teased.

"Neither. Femme went ballistic when I suggested names for our sparkling. Changed in a spark beat without warning. I know when to save my own aft," Ironhide explained.

"Confirmed sighting, Elita is on the East Tarmac, heading our direction," Prowl announced. Optimus turned, striding back out.

Ironhide shook his head side to side like a human. "He has no idea does he?"

On the Tarmac, Optimus paused as Elita strode into view. His old rifle, her current weapon of choice casually braced on one shoulder strut. Her silver armor was stark against the black color of the weapon as she walked right up to him. She raised her free hand, dragging one coy metal finger slowly down his chest while cooing, "Miss me, lover mech?"

"Always," he chuckled, liking her friskiness. "I'll take that," he offered an armored palm out, sliding the rifle off her shoulder with his other hand. The entire end of the rifle glowed red and Optimus winced. 'Done that in battle a few times but slag it, I was fighting for my spark and had no choice to fire it that many times. Wonder if anything is left of the obstacle course or target range.'

::You still in one piece Prime? Or should I send a rescue crew?:: Ironhide

::Functional and confiscating her main weapon, end is slagging hot! I thought Ratchet said carrying a sparkling would make her more protective:: Optimus sent internally while holding out an energon cube for her to drink.

::Guns do protect for a femme commander:: Ironhide quipped.

::I said more protective not passive. You could have taken precautions like we did for Chromia:: Ratchet

::Which was?:: Optimus sent, handing her a second energon cube while subspacing the empty one.

::Refilled her blaster with paint balls from the humans:: Ironhide

::So that is what happened to the minor twins. Took the cleaner bots a full breem to scrub med bay floor after their repairs:: Ratchet

::Why would paint cause repairs?:: Optimus

::It was where Chromia wedged the last of them:: Ratchet

::No details:: Optimus hastily sent. ::I will read the report::

Elita tapped her lip plates together and frowned. "Energon mix is off. Tastes flat somehow. Needs a little spice," she said, chucking the cube into the air before slipping an energon blade into her palm and throwing it through the cube, embedding both nearly a foot into the nearby building.

"Sideswipe has clean up duty. He'll return the blade to me later," she smirked, strutting towards the lagoon. "Coming my lover?" she asked in the ancient language of the primes.

He felt his systems quicken as they always did when she used the old language and nodded, moving before he was even aware of it. "Uhm, Elita is water and sand a good idea?"

She snickered, looking back over their shoulder. "Only if you intend to grab, slide and roll around in it."

"Not planning too," he admitted, not sure how to handle her. She walked until they were out of sight of nearby humans.

"You owe me a dance," she reminded, humming a melody and moving her hips.

"You really should rest," he encouraged.

"I have been resting. I am not an old bot you know," her tone sharpened in warning.

"We are not young either," he chuckled, reaching out to touch her face. "Hey!"

"Hands off," she warned, raising her hand to slap his arm again. "I see how it is. I am young and fight forever then on a new world, I carry a sparkling, and suddenly I have served my purpose hmm? Bring a new Prime into the world for you to raise and make a target of the Decepticons?" Her vocal volume raised as the faintest flicker of red appeared in her optics.

"We...," he hesitated after the word we, "should have started this long ago Elita. I want more than one sparkling and feared endangering you. This world is beautiful but pales in comparison to the blazing glory that is your spark," he stated softly, not moving.

"My spark calls to yours," she purred, reaching out to grab him around his waist plates and pulled herself tight against his armor. She turned her helm, leaning against his glass chest panels as though listening. "Even now I know its pulse, the powerful rhythm that is your essence," She vented softly as he wrapped his arms around her. Then her hand began moving lower until he grabbed it.

"No, too public for that and no spark merging. I will not endanger you or our sparklings," he moved her hand back above her spark.

"Race you back to our quarters," she began, stepping back to pull free.

He grabbed both her hands and stopped her. "No racing. I could not endure the thought of see you with even a friction burn love. And we have much to discuss."

"Really? The name of the sparkling? How soon we can spark another? Or did you want to wait and enjoy our newest?" She vented, her engines softly revving.

"More dereliction of duty femme Commander," he unconsciously straightened his chassis, slipping from mate to his rank as Prime. "My team must trust my judgment without questions, my orders without fear and know I would sacrifice my existence for them as they would sacrifice their sparks for me. I ordered the protection of humans even to the point of restricting our systems to ensure their safety."

She listened, sliding her hands out of his while he continued.

"As my mate and Commander of the femmes, you have been my equal in all things," he smiled down at her. "Until now. I have removed myself from active duty for several joors but never as long as you went missing. Do not give me the 'exile' excuse," he firmly stated, placing one hand against her lip plates. "You endangered yourself with that choice and indirectly me."

"We are each responsible for ourselves," she pulled back to speak, focusing her optics on his. "I endangered you how?"

"With willful neglect of your duties and deserting me, your sparkmate. My entire processing was of you and our separation, nothing else," he said.

"I missed you too, hence me showing up at the dance. What punishment for showing self control to not fry a human and for me having a moment for myself?" she asked.

"It is not a matter of time or credits Elita. I am being serious. I understand the why of your actions but not the length of time. Give me one example of what else you could have done in that situation. Proof firing your weapon was not your only option and that you truly understand the results of your actions. Show me what you can do femme," her Prime ordered.

"Incoming!" Hound screamed, grabbing two nearby human soldiers. Sounds of their screaming mixed with his screeching metal as his arms scarped across the concrete pavement as he dove to the side. The dark shadow of Optimus' massive frame covered them before his red and blue chassis dropped down and slammed into the pavement alongside. Concrete shattered, thrown into the air with the brute force. Hound curled his frame inward, protecting the fragile humans as pieces rained down.

Ugg," Optimus groaned, rolling up onto his side. Concrete broke off his back armor, falling back to the ground. A fist shaped dent outlined the glyphs in his left cheek plating as he focused. "I will not that that from anyone, even my mate," he grumbled, rising to balance on his feet pads. Stomping back through the palm tree lined sand path his bright colors disappeared around the bend.

::Twins, Ironhide to the tarmac now. Emergency or will be shortly:: Hound sent. Mechanical voices rose. "Not again," he recognized the sound of metal striking metal. Optimus slid into view on his back, a second fist shaped dent laid neatly across the first. He released the humans and approached the downed Prime.

"Sure we can't send her to Megatron for an orn? Might be fun to see," Hound quipped, leaning over Optimus to block the sunlight. The Prime's blue optics focused, then slid to the side as her silver shape approached.

"Your problem," Hound yelped, transforming to his jeep mode. Every nearby soldier took one look at her and fled for their lives. The two human soldiers rescued ran and jumped in his alt mode, yelling for him to save them again. He raced off, using laser restraints to keep them inside his open jeep cab. Sideswipe, Sunstreaker and Ironhide raced in, their alt modes passing him.

Elita marched up to Optimus, reaching and shouting a command in the ancient language of the Primes. Optimus right energon sword dropped out of subspace, swinging into her hand. She braced, bringing it into the high guard position as he rolled away, pulling his other sword out of subspace.

::Let me handle this:: Sideswipe sent, revving his engine to get her attention. He transformed, his sword dropping out of subspace.

"Stay out of this junior," she warned.

Sideswipe smirked, shifting his weight as he rolled back and forth. "Oh yah, skill time. Defeat and not destroy, I'm good enough." He crept forward, balancing and moving his sword side to side.

She smirked, sliding super fast around his side, her foot snapping out in a kick to the back of his leg joint, popping it forward before she struck.

"YAAAHH!" Screaming, the twin went down to his knee plates, grabbing at his shoulder as her sword sliced across it.

"Quit yelling, I barely tagged you," she growled, seeing him whimper and grovel on the ground without rising to fight.

"It hurts," he whimpered, putting his lower lip plate out. "I was only playing." His red frame shuddered and he bowed his helm, optics closed as the sword returned to subspace.

Venting hard, she clasped the sword to her back and knelt by him. "Let me see," she ordered, leaning over him to run metal fingers across the wound edge.

::What are you doing bro'?:: Sunstreaker asked, feeling his twins amusement and minimal pain at the faint slice.

::Using her femme protocols. Acting like a hurt youngling:: Sideswipe sent without moving.

::You are acting like the messed up processor sparking you are:: Ironhide smirked, keeping his distance.

::Works doesn't it? I cannot fight a carrying femme:: Sideswipe

Elita frowned as she turned her head to the west, her optics dimming as she called on a private frequency. "I said now medic," she vocalized, her optics brightening. Sunstreaker approached them, hands out and without a weapon.

"Is my twin going to be okay?" He asked, pretending to look worried.

"I called Ratchet, comfort him until he gets here," she instructed, hugging Sideswipe before moving out of the way. His twin nodded, moving slowly as Elita backed off . Once she was clear, he slapped the back of his helm.

"Ow!" Sideswipe yelped ::What was that for?::

::A taste of what Elita will do if she remembers this after the sparkling is shelled. Femmes do not like being tricked:: Sunstreaker sent, kneeling by his red twin.

::Fooled me, they trick us mechs all the time. Look smaller, lighter and need protecting until they carry a sparkling then oh Primus! Decepticons in battle are easier to handle:: Sideswipe complained.

Hound rolled back into sight, his hood barely seen past the building corner. He transformed, approaching cautiously then looked back over his green shoulder plates as another engine sound began. Ratchet rolled up, lights flashing before transforming to his bi pedal mode. His medical scans focused on Elita, then Optimus' dented face then the scratch mar on Sideswipe.

::Who do I help first?:: Ratchet asked, his tone highly amused.

::Sideswipe. I am fine and Elita is...irritable. Keep your distance:: Optimus ordered.

::I did warn you and here is a processing line of code, it is only 10 am local time. She will be like this until recharge tonight:: Ratchet closed the comm line while placing a hand on Sideswipe. He scanned again, removing a container of nannites from his leg hatch and applying the metal gel like substance to the armor. "Self repair will reseal once the nannites finish closing the wound. Repaint once sealed. No trip to med bay required," the medic evaluated.

"See Elita, minor damage," Optimus turned her direction to find the space empty. Ironhide snickered while Sunstreaker rolled his optics.

"You know, she would make a good scout. Always have the position open," Hound teased. His leader frowned, optics focusing.

'There,' his trackers followed her unique energy signature as a blue spotted line disappearing between two buildings. 'Heading for our quarters to recharge again,' he guessed based on her path. Transforming, his Peterbilt alt mode engine roared to life, blowing clear exhaust before following her trail.

"Lennox to Optimus, I need you in the main hangar for a quick conference. Decepticon sighting in Asia. Need you for a consult," The human Major's voice sounded in his cab over their shared frequency.

"Rolling now Major," Optimus turned, driving past a line of armored personal carriers and tanks before transforming back to his bi pedal mode to enter the hanger. An hour later, he finished the conference call, determined to return to his quarters.

"How is your mate?" Will asked, rubbing the skin on his cheek in a silent signal he knew about the incident on the beach.

"Recharging and functional," Optimus answered his regal baritone deep with dignity.

"Recharging in the Autobot storage hangar?" Master Sergeant Epps asked, pulling up a security image. Elita's silver armored form, her arms carrying a repair container box with hoses hanging over the side appeared on the main monitor. "This image was recorded about ten minutes after our conference started."

Transforming, the ancient Prime backed out the main doors, roaring off the direction of the private storage hangar. Ironhide, Ratchet and Ultra Magnus looked at each other before transforming and following him. Hound and Bumblebee watched them pass before they too transformed and joined the procession. The human soldiers watched with little interest as they drove by, used to driverless vehicles rolling around base.

Inside the storage hangar, Elita smirked, holding the paint sprayer in her hand. "He wants to go all commanding and controlling hmm? Even Megatron knows better, he gives an order then turns his troops loose. Orion is Optimus Prime not Primus," she wiped at the color spray on her armor, frowning as protocols engaged, demanding a super clean environment for her and her soon arriving sparkling.

"To the wash racks it is," she chirped, reacting without realizing it. She left, walking around the four story communications building on the east side as a red and blue flamed Peterbilt semi passed on the west side, leading a convoy of vehicles.

Optimus slammed on his brakes, sliding to a stop and transforming. The Autobots following swerved, going all directions and transforming at the storage doors.

"What the slag Prime," Ironhide grumbled, leaning away from a grumbling yellow and green armored medic.

"MY TRAILER IS PURPLE!" he roared, pointing to it. Instead of the normal metal silver with red and blue stripes, it was a shade of deep purple, Decepticon purple to be exact, with black trim stripes. Hound and Bumblebee circled it before transforming, ensuring it was safe for their leader to approach.

"Nice mud flaps," Hound commented then moved beyond his physical reach as Optimus stomped over to see.

"Elita," he rested his forehead on his hand as systems struggled with his temper and exasperation. Her distinctive metal shape, sitting down in a sideways position was on each mud flap, in a copy of the metal shapes human trailers had. The trailer's license plate now read "Ease up."

The assembled bots kept their optics anywhere but meeting his as they struggled to contain their laughter.

"Where is she?" Ratchet asked.

"That way," Optimus said, pointing to the white concrete floor. Distinct purple foot pads marks lead from the scene back towards the main base.

"You don't think she?" Ultra Magnus optics went wide with horror, looking at the deep purple marks on the floor.

"No, she would not have painted herself," Optimus reassured. "This is a personal joke between us. A reminder for a Prime not to get controlling lest he become like a Decepticon."

"That is a joke between you two? Remind me to never find out your definition of a disaster or bad time," the tall commander muttered.

::Chromia to Autobot Command. Anyone missing a femme commander? All silver armor with purple spots and a satisfied smirk?:: Chromia

::Where?:: Optimus

::About to enter the femme side of the wash racks:: Chromia

"Removing the evidence?" Ironhide speculated, trying to keep from laughing outright.

"No, getting clean. She dislikes her silver alt mode and armor she currently wears, shows all traces of dirt," Optimus vented.

"I warned you she would be hyper clean with her protocols," Ratchet said.

::Why the public ones? We have our own:: Optimus changed back to the internal comm line.

::Saw Ram and I in the hallway heading in there. We were out of cleanser in our quarters for the sparkling bath. Gave us a chance to catch up on details, like why her feet pads were purple:: Chromia answered with a deep chuckle overlaying her mental tone.

_To be continued..._


	12. Chapter 12 Wash Racks

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. I thought long and hard on whether to write a "steamy shower" type scene between Elita and Optimus, especially while she is carrying a sparkling, blocking any spark merging. The answer was sort of. Wash racks, steam in the air and them there at the same time but a T for Teen rating. I know there are readers under 18 and I write to bring a smile or laugh and not lust. Awww moments are better than ohhhh moments.

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Inside the femme side of the Autobot wash racks, Elita spun the solvent dial, releasing more cleanser gel onto her soak cloth. Furiously she scrubbed at the drying dark purple paint on her armored lower leg, muttering about bad aim.

"Steam cleaning?" Chromia teased, holding a clean Ram in her arms. The little mech sparkling wiggled, not liking the steam condensing on his shell and dripping down his tiny metal fingers.

"Only way to get this off," she pointed at the purple spots on the top of her feet pads. "Why couldn't the last liaison have picked red or black as a car color? No, he has to pick plain silver and I choose to imitate his alt mode," she continued scrubbing. "Should have trans scanned a military tank or a small plane, and bombed in to that human party," the femme grumbled, squeezing the shammy cloth, watching as the water and gel ran lavender.

"With that silver armor and all the steam you look like a human teapot," Chromia added in a parting verbal shot, disappearing out the direction of the main doors with her sparkling.

Her audios heard them swoosh open then close even as the steam curled towards her with the entry of fresh air. Elita leaned back, closing her optics as the heat soaked down into her protoform.

A presence moved in the steam, nearing. Her optics flipped open, battle commands calling her rifle from subspace. Nothing happened. 'Pit! Optimus has it,' she processed, bracing against the wall, defensive and offensive protocols fighting for system dominance when the shadow resolved into the familiar red and blue shape of her mate.

"Easy," he comforted. "I'm not a threat." His hands were held open as he remained still.

"This is the femme wash racks," she reminded, embarrassed at her frantic reactions seconds before.

"I know, I chose to designate them over the protests," Optimus answered, moving towards the side stall and the cleaning baskets.

"The mechs didn't want to give up the space?" Elita guessed, her optics following him as he grabbed a large cleaning cloth, covering it with cleanser gel.

"No, from Arcee and Chromia. Protested the appearance of special treatment."

"So why did you?"

"Humans. I wanted them to understand you were equal and deserved your own designated space. Keeping both mech and femme together would have led to attempts of watching and problems based on human concepts of gender and morals," he explained, moving close and awkwardly sitting on the tile floor at her feet. "They do not understand sparks recognize each other and we choose mates for our existence and beyond. Or that a femme may remain without a mech by choice and we process this as normal." Optimus reached, gently cupping her right foot pads in his huge silver armored hand. He began cleaning her front set with the cloth held in his other hand.

" Worse, they believe you femmes are controlled by biological drives or hormones or that as mechs we are not fully capable of controlling ourselves." He pinched his fingers together, removing a small stone out of the lower servo joint. Elita wiggled her footpad, venting as it flexed fully around. He wiped at the paint and dirt, moving the soft cloth in circles across her sensor pads.

" For a race that displays everything on their internet, they have curiously closed concepts on interpersonal relationships, refusing to listen to Ratchet's explanations but assign human emotions and reactions to our mechanical existence," Optimus braced her foot pad on his shoulder, scooting awkwardly closer to clean her knee joint and upper leg plates. "Was there anywhere the paint missed splattering?"

"Apparently not," she grinned at him, then became serious. "A human confronted me over those same issues. Claimed we femmes choose to be without mates and sparklings. That when we needed more fighters, femmes would breed. Until then we would not have to explain the war and our reasons for continuing it," Elita remembered.

He growled as his hands tightened on her leg armor. His optics narrowed with flecks of red appearing among the bright blue coloring. "Who dared?"

"The human in the warehouse," she answered, pleased at his reaction.

"He's offlined," Optimus said, settling as the man was beyond his reach.

"You didn't?" her surprise was evident.

"No, nor any under my command," he vented, realizing she did not know of what had happened after leaving and not wanting to get her irritated. 'Liable to end up in the hallway with water tubing wrapped around my frame, or worse a cleaning cloth stuck up in my innermost cogs.' He continued rubbing her leg plate with the cloth, shining it before tracing back down to her footpads.

"We believe he was working as a Decepticon agent and outlived his usefulness," he summarized, moving his armored fingers gently against the inner edge of her feet pads and sending a light magnetic pulse.

"Hey now," she exhaled while twitching.

He smirked, shuttering his optics to remove the extra moisture from the steam. Another light pulse had her flexing her feet pads fully, allowing him to slide the cloth between the plating. "Curl them little pads," he encouraged, giving them a final rinse of cleaner gel.

"I'm glad I chose you," she murmured, leaning her upper body forward. "I trust you with raising our sparkling."

"Hmm, thanks I think," he murmured back, lowering her leg before raising her other leg to clean it. Deliberately he focused on her armor and not the view sitting in front of him. Finishing, he sat her leg down, chucking the stained cloths into the wash collector. She rose, stretching while he pretended to be busy with the cleaner bottle. 'No looking Prime. She is yours but carrying and you will never risk them. Few seconds more and the temptation will be gone,' he processed internally.

Elita circled around him then placed one hand on his shoulder. "No moving."

"What are you doing?" He felt her reaching under the edge of his back shoulder armor, pulling out a piece of broken concrete.

"Giving you a bath. My feet pads and legs feel wonderful so I'm returning the favor," she chirped merrily.

"I'm a little old for this," he teased, grabbing her hand and kissing it to distract her from remembering her punch crashed him into the concrete.

"When was the last time you were properly cleaned? I do not mean by Ratchet in med bay because replacing burnt, slagged metal parts is not cleaning. Or the quick throw on cleanser you use an excuse for personal time," she said.

"Hah! Do you know how many times I have stood in the wash racks with only a small wall separating my chassis from counselors, command officers and warriors? All of them bickering and trying to out yell each other on who is right or what I should do next? They didn't care pit if I had been there in my bare protoform as long as I listened to their demands," he chuckled, letting his hands drape across his legs as he continued sitting on the tile floor.

"I do remember one councilor that interrupted our personal time. You threatened to blast him for daring to enter our recharge area," she snickered.

"We were about to spark merge and he wanted to discuss seating arrangements for the next senate meeting," Optimus growled.

"His optics and sensors were offline except for his audios," she said.

"His processors were offline to disturb us like that," he commented, watching as water gathered to run down his blue and red flame painted arm, falling in drops to the floor. "And I have been properly cleaned before."

"How long ago? When you were Orion? A youngling? Do you even remember that far back?" She asked, grabbing an armful of cloths, bottles of cleanser gel and two small soft detail brushes.

"The memory core files are encrypted and condensed. Take awhile to retrieve and reload," he acknowledged.

"Then we make new ones. And I get practice at cleaning a mech." She continued pulling on his shoulder armor, reaching beneath to clean in a caring manner. Nothing in her touch aroused him, no sensor nodes pulsed or cables tweaked or disturbed. Dirt and dust were pulled away without force and the warmth soaked into his protoform. His engine hummed as he relaxed under her gentle hands.

::What's your status Prime?:: Prowl

::Getting a bath:: Optimus

::Elita corner you, demanding you clean up? Told you carrying femmes go through a cleaning and rearranging phase:: Ratchet

:: Intimate time with my femme actually. I envy a sparkling. Pure physical contact, love and not a care in this galaxy. Their every want and need provided:: Optimus

::Why Prime, if holding you down and scrubbing your armor is all you need I can get the twins to help. Long handled scrub brushes take right care of ya:: Ironhide

::Rule # 18456 Prime needs a weekly bath to stabilize his processors:: Prowl

::Giant energon bottle instead of forced energon lines brilliant:: Wheeljack

::Any time you want help to recharge I can trank or stasis your chassis, holding it down with restraint straps:: Ratchet

::I am always here to listen:: Bumblebee sent, his tone sincere. All the comm lines went quiet as he continued. ::I am small but my audios are big. I will help anyway I can. Sam and Mikeala too. We need you::

::That is not necessary but I will store your offer for the future Bumblebee:: Optimus sent, his system surging with happiness at the young scout's offer.

::Show off:: Ironhide grumped.

::I can hold a scrub brush too:: Bumblebee

::Do any of you need anything important or can a Prime have time alone with his mate?:: Elita

::Sorry gentle femme, joy to your spark:: Bumblebee ended with the traditional closing.

::Chromia wants to remind you the meeting is at two to confirm the room arrangements:: Ironhide sent.

::Energon bottles are ready, the mini ones for the sparkling. Alarms are going off in my lab. Got to go!:: Wheeljack rushed out before his signal closed off.

::Any changes and you call me immediately:: Ratchet

In the wash racks, Optimus wiped at the moisture condensing on his optics. 'How long has it been to spend time alone with Elita other than interfacing or sparking? Too long,' the ancient warrior mech realized. 'Able to rest and not process tactics or wonder how to save all my team at what price to myself.'

Elita frowned, recognizing the signs of his brooding. Leaning back, she spun the cloth then snapped it forward, hitting the blue antennae.

"OW!" he yelled, covering his helm with his armored hands.

"Bath time means getting clean not mucking in old memories youngling," she glared down at him. "A bare aft spanking for you if you disobey so don't push it," she warned then giggled when his battle mask appeared. "Feel threatened? I mean it," Elita brandished the brush. "No misbehaving. Be a good mech."

The mask hid his smirk as he reached for a cloth to snap her foot with.

_To be continued..._


	13. Chapter 13 Clean and cravings

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews and requests for this to continue. Optimus has dealt with his femme and lost. Now it's the other mech's turns. And a mechanical being would not have cravings quite like a human but different flavors of energon work. More to update for now.

**Autobot Wash Racks**

**Femme Side**

Optimus spun the towel, knowing Elita could see it moving just as she had seen his battle mask engage. 'Threaten me with an aft spanking like an errant sparkling in its first shell? I think not,' he processed. Her optics narrowed and the wooden scrub brush in her silver armored hand rose in warning.

"Optimus, be a good mech."

"No," he smirked, his battle mask hiding the smile. Calculating the exact distance and speed, he snapped the towel, cracking the air above her ankle plating.

"Oh, you are in for it now!" She yelled, diving for him. Her intent was to grab and turn him to reach his backside. He spun sideways, letting her momentum carry her nearly past before grabbing her and falling backwards. Their mass impact rattled the room and sent water flying from the floor. Shrieking, she flailed around with the brush in her hand, glancing across his chest and shoulder armor but doing no damage. Laughing, he rolled up and over with her, pinning Elita gently under his massive bulk and knocking the brush from her grasp to disappear into the steam clouds.

With a click, his battle mask retracted, leaning in very closer to her. His lip plates touched above her optics before he vented, rearing back and releasing her. "I love you Ariel."

"Ohh, don't stop. It was getting good," she wrapped both arms around his back, holding him tightly.

His optics closed as he fought an inner battle. 'Do not be stupid, she cannot spark merge. Your love is not physical only, or it would not have endured so many vorns apart' he processed then opened his optics to the beauty of her face. They traced every angle of her square helm, the delicate features forming the center of her face down to the lip plates. "So beautiful," he murmured. His hydraulics hissed as he unclasped her arms, balancing his mass over her before standing.

"We have escaped our duties long enough. I have meetings and my officers need checking on," he said, assuming his role as Prime.

"Officers, online at Diego Garcia. Checked. Now where were we?" She purred, moving closer and shaking her foot pad. With a soft thump, the crushed cleanser bottle fell out of her gears.

"This is neither the time nor the place and merging in the wash racks would be setting a bad precedent for those under our command," he said.

"I should have spanked you for being bad. Maybe knock some sense into your processors," she grumbled.

"If you really want, I will not resist," he stated regally, turning and kneeling on his knee plates on the wet floor. His upper chassis tilted forward, his weight resting on his hands as he faced forward away from her. She had the perfect alignment to deliver the aft spanking.

"Hmm, both brushes are crushed flat and you don't deserve it. You did miss my armor after all," she said. "Oh get up already Optimus. You look ridiculous that way. Your armor can take a hit from Megatron's fusion cannon, what could I do to it?"

"As you wish Elita," he chuckled, rising to his feet pads, shaking off excess droplets of water. Chuckling, he accepted the offered hand towel, wiping at the moisture on his optics and faceplates.

"I don't know about you but I've had enough being clean," Elita wiped at her faceplates and upper arms then shrieked as he grabbed her waist plates, swinging her around before holding her tight against his chassis.

"Mine," he rubbed his blue plated helm across her silver helm, carrying her to the threshold. Both doors unlocked, swinging open to his silent command. "Mine now and forever," he answered, setting her down gently.

She stroked his face then frowned at the twin overlapping indents in his metal. "Why aren't your nannites fixing that?"

"They are," he vented, hoping to avoid a repeat of the emotional tempest putting it there via her fist.

"Taking slagging forever. Sit down," she stepped back, her fingers on the right hand transmorphing into a tool combo.

"Since when are you a medic?" He quizzed, remaining standing where he was.

"I'm as field trained as you. Enough offline under your command and you pick up the basics fast," she answered, her tone filled with bitterness. "And I said sit down."

He raised an optic arch at her. She vented, moving close to him. Optics narrowed on them both before she jumped straight up, regular hand reaching out to grab his left antenna, pulling it down with her weight.

"Ow! What in!" He exclaimed, faceplates twisting with pain. "Ease up, that's sensitive, you know that."

"When I give an order youngling you listen," she stated firmly, keeping him bent over. "You can either let me repair it or see Ratchet."

"I would prefer you but I have two human meetings, Ratchet will be there and he can do repairs then my love. Now please, let my antenna go?" he asked.

"Since you said please," she admonished. The twenty-eight foot plus mech stood straight, backing away. A reminder chime sounded, causing a frown to appear on her lip plates. "I have an appointment with Wheeljack in one breem."

"I will see you tonight then and Elita, try not to paint him purple if he upsets you," Optimus teased walking away. The thrown towel caught him square in the back of his helm.

**Wheeljack's Research Lab**

**Absolutely no humans allowed inside – For their own safety**

"Now Elita, remain calm. I only said it would not be practical, not impossible!" the civilian scientist sputtered, keeping both hands raised in front of his face to protect his valuable sidebars. They were flashing red and orange of alarm as she continued to corner him. His white armor reflected in her silver chest plates as she advanced.

"Is every mech on this planet thick chipped? One simple request. Add some flavoring to the energon because it tastes flat," she growled. "Is that so hard to understand?" His white and green color stripes resembled a target lock more than decoration to her systems.

"Uhm, no commander. I can have samples ready for tasting in four breems. Any particular flavor?" He stalled.

"Hmm," she considered, tilting her head to the side. "Spicy like the old coreanol additives but not strong like the Beta Three mix and never that processor choking mix from Dengier Four." She continued listing requirements as he focused inward.

::Is med bay empty?:: Wheeljack

::What did you blow off this time?:: Ratchet

::More about to be ripped off. Elita has me trapped in my lab:: Wheeljack

::Does any bot ever listen to me? I warned all of you she would be protocol driven until the sparkling arrives:: Ratchet

::I am about to arrive there on the end of her footpad if I am not careful. A little diversion help please?:: Wheeljack begged.

::You owe me:: Ratchet sent, closing that comm line and opening a direct one to Elita.

::Elita here:: Elita

::May I have the pleasure of your company?:: Ratchet

::Absolutely not! And proposition me like that again medic and Moonracer will not have anything left to rip apart!:: Elita

:It is a human phrase of courtesy:: Ratchet grumped, sending her a data packet of the Wikipedia explanation. ::Med bay or your quarters to upgrade your sparkling monitor. You complained the attachment was rubbing on your under plate, I have a smaller lighter clip but hey, it's your spire rub::

::Oh. My quarters then. I hate med bay. Too many bad memories:: Elita

::En route, meet you there:: Ratchet

_To be continued..._


	14. Chapter 14 Too warm in here

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. Credit to laydofdarkstar for her beta help on Elita dealing with Ratchet. He is not known for his bedside manner or comforting words. Breem is 8.3 minutes, Joor is 6.5 hours and Orn is 13 days. Half a joor is 3 hours plus approximate. The fun continues as time continues to move closer to the sparking finally arriving.

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::You busy?:: Ratchet sent to one mech alone.

::Who needs rescuing from what to let you add to the dents?:: Ironhide

::I'm about to replace a sensor on Elita in her quarters. She refused med bay:: Ratchet

::You have titanium bearings:: Ironhide

::Actually, I am counting on yours. If I signal, I need your help for rescue:: Ratchet

::My help? Do my audios deceive me? Rescue you? Repeat that last transmission medic. I need to confirm I heard right:: Ironhide

::#$%#^ Hide! I have a carrying femme to deal with. I don't need pit from you too:: Ratchet's tone carried the echo of thrown wrenches.

::Why not let Optimus deal with her? He has medical training:: Ironhide

::I'm the chief medical officer, and she is my patient as well as mate to my second oldest friend:: Ratchet

::Why ask me and not Wheeljack?::Ironhide

::Wheeljack called me to save his aft and you are my oldest friend. I served Prime as medic before he trusted me. We'd clashed once too often in the senate. You alone accepted my decision to join the team, making sure I had combat training and a weapon once I realized I needed one:: Ratchet

::Like now?:: Ironhide teased.

::Stand by and be ready lug head:: Ratchet

::Getting the parts bucket for your pieces now:: Ironhide sent, closing the internal comm line.

The door swooshed open before the Autobot medic, recognizing his unique energy signature. In the main room, Elita faced the wall while tapping on the temperature-sending unit. "Malfunctioning, I know it. Hey Ratchet," she greeted without turning around. "Sorry about the heat, already put a repair call into human facilities."

He quirked an optic arch as sensors confirmed the room's temperature. "It's below normal now. Your frame may run warmer in this last sequencing. Prepping the spark for existence outside your own spark." He approached slowly, running in depth medical scans on her silver figure. "Confirm higher energy output. Are your cooling fans not compensating?"

"Any more and I'd be flying across the base with them like a jet engine," she grumbled. "There, set the unit to maximum cool."

"Replacing the sparkling monitor will take less than a breem and if you are still bothered later, remove a few pieces of your external armor. You are on the inactive list," he reminded, his multi facet optics slowing as they completed scanning.

Spinning, she confronted him calling her rifle from subspace. Nothing happened as she remembered. "Pit it! Prime has my rifle. Listen you," slamming her open hand against his yellow green chest armor. "I've lead troops into battle with gaping holes in my protoform. I have fought Decepticons single-handed and been twice as good as any scout for sneaking around. And add a request for cannons to my arms once I get my rose colored form back since I never slaggin have my rifle handy! Carrying a second spark makes me what? Weak ? A liability?"

"A target, like before Elita. You lost your first sparkling essence, you want to lose this one too?" he snapped before running it completely through his processor. His optics narrowed then widened as she froze.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." he trailed off as she sagged, wilting to the floor. He reached for her, his armored hand missing with her curling up in a fetal ball. "Oh Pit, what have I done? Elita you need to relax. Quit stressing your systems." Internally, the medic felt horrified that she had taken his words too hard.

"Please uncurl and listen to what I am saying. Your spark is strong and the essence is nearly ready. You will hold its shell in your arms and see the optics online. You will pick a name with Optimus and present the sparkling as your own." He relaxed as she slowly uncurled, not meeting his optics but sitting upright. Her arms remained crossed across her chest plates protectively. "Let me install the new sensor and you will see. Feel its strength and in a matter of joors you will be watching me transfer the essence." The parts switch was rapid and without incident. Neither spoke and he left, promising to respond the instant she needed him for anything.

He was halfway down the hallway when he heard the buzz bam! "That was a laser blast," he realized.

"Inactive list my aft. I am perfectly fine. It is the heating in this place that is messed up. Well, now it's not. Problem fragging solved," Elita's raised voice reached his audios clearly.

"Patient attitude better, her not being my spark mate best. Not being the mech that has to come back to those quarters later, thank Primus," he muttered, transforming to his hummer alt mode to escape back to med bay.

Half a joor later, Optimus entered their quarters, taking a step when it hit him. The cold chill in the air. Optics shuttering rapidly, he checked the wall temperature unit, frowning at the blackened burnt hole where it use to be.

"Don't touch the heat!" A female voice called from their recharge area. "Took me forever to get it cool in here."

"Cool? It's freezing Elita," he complained, walking forward. The sound of metal on metal clanging had him looking down. Bright blue optics narrowed in on the silver colored chest plate battle extension piece resting under the edge of his footpads. Then the curved shoulder armor piece lying a little ahead of it then the two silver outer hip plating pieces ahead of that and onward. Venting faster, he moved out and around the trail of discarded chassis armor and saw her.

Elita's dark protoform no longer hid under armor, her raw beauty displayed as she reclined on their recharge berth. The energon cube in her hand was nearly white with condensed moisture as she sipped. The few pieces, the very few of remaining armor accented her graceful curves. She shifted upright and his willpower fell to about his feet pads.

"Well?"

"I uhm …that is … wow." He stared at her, knowing his facial expression was neither commanding nor dignified and not caring. His red and blue armored frame felt heavy and he resisted the urge to shuck his own armor.

"We need to request for windows. No way to get the air moving in here. Downright muggy," she said, turning to lay on her side.

"I'm a little warm too," he rumbled. Systems screamed for him to turn and run as other systems urged him to move forward.

"Took all my self control to not rip the human engineer a new face after he told me the system was fine," she continued.

'My self control is going out the door, off the continent, and out into space,' he processed, moving one step closer.

The wall intercom beeped. "Prime you there? It's Ironhide. I need you outside the main doors now. We have a serious situation. You copy?"

Elita pressed the send button, "Prime's busy, deal with it."

Optimus began shuffling backwards, nearly hitting the door edge. "Duty calls."

"I call too and you ignore me," she pouted her lip plates.

"Ahh, that is, I um…going now." He turned and fled out into the hallway as fast as his feet pads would go.

"Primus, this is your doing I know it. Your twisted humor. Allow me to fall in love with the most beautiful femme in existence then tempt me when I can't touch her," he muttered leaning on the wall.

"I gave up on him hearing long ago or I wouldn't keep seeing sparks extinguish under my hands," Ratchet commented sourly, striding into view in his bi pedal mode.

"The choices we make in this war cost sparks," Optimus reminded. He stood, his red and blue frame solid and steady.

"Hmm, and your choice made a new spark, hence your problem with a carrying femme," Ironhide wisecracked, moving into view behind the medic.

"One earth day and I will have two sparks to protect and care for as my own," he said.

"Elita needs no protection," Ratchet commented.

"Unlike medics who attend her and lack a bedside manner," Ironhide grunted.

"Combat medics are not supposed to be polite and ask how you are doing. If you can answer, you don't need a medic, you need a weapons reload or to get out of the way," Ratchet reminded. "I take it you got Ironhide's call? Relay we set to your systems. To know when your self control might be threatened."

"I was in complete control," Optimus stated in his deep baritone.

"Hmm, tell that to my med sensors. Elita has your spark tapping on your chest housing even now."

"I love her and she was lying on the recharge berth in her protoform," he admitted.

"Ouch. That is a temptation. Moonracer did that to me once. Missed a conference meeting on bi lateral harmonizer settings on hip cogs because of her. "

"You missed that, over a willing protoform femme, and you are complaining?" Ironhide asked.

"I was supposed to be teaching it," he corrected. "The medical academy was not happy when I failed to show."

"Bet you had a smirk on your lip plates when you did," Ironhide teased.

"Did what?" Moonracer asked, appearing around the corner at that moment.

"Pulled shrapnel out of his aft from one of Chromia's grenades after an argument," Ratchet smoothly switched in.

"What else is new? I'm here to check on Elita. She was complaining the thermostat was malfunctioning," Moonracer explained.

"Is now. She blasted it," Optimus warned. "After setting it on spark freeze."

"Really? Hmm, Chromia never could get ours below armor frost," Ironhide joked, moving out of her way. Her blue form continued down the hallway and around the corner.

"Anything else you mechs forgot to tell me?" Optimus asked, confronting them both.

"Only the first week after the sparking is shelled she will be protective of it. Think of this as a practice session. And Prime, once it is in your arms, neither of you will remember this," Ratchet said.

"I think he will," Ironhide snorted before glancing up at his leader. "Primey loved his little bath didn't he? All nice and squeaky clean. "

Inside the room, Moonracer and Elita blinked as weapons fire and pounding footpads echoed from the hallway. "Did we mate to mechs or sparklings?"

"Sparklings Moonracer. If we can handle them we can handle the little versions," Elita quipped. "More energon? Wheeljack flavored this one with light marko minerals."

_To be continued..._


	15. Chapter 15 Prime's mess and waiting

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews and the arrival time for their sparkling draws close but not quite yet.

Recap: Elita trans scanned a silver car and is stuck in that color and alt mode until after the sparkling is transferred. Ironhide and Optimus got rough housing in the hallway outside of the quarters he and Elita have.

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Ratchet, former elected politician, middle class family, and direct clan descendant of the thirteen original Quintesson freedom warriors glared at the two mechs sitting sheepishly on medical berths in his med bay. 'I don't know whether to throw wrenches, yell or look mean. Hmm, all three work at this point,' he processed. A silver wrench sailed between them to strike the wall and fall to the growing pile of them on the med bay floor.

Optimus opened his lip plates to speak, the left half of his battle mask missing. A single yellow green armored finger pointed at him and he kept quiet. Ironhide snickered then narrowed his optics as the same finger pointed his direction.

"As Chief Medical Officer," he began. "I have repaired self inflicted injuries, injuries from pranks and outright carelessness on and off the battlefield. But you two wrestling and breaking that outer wall sets a new #$%#^& record!"

"We didn't know Ratchet," Ironhide mumbled, rubbing at the char marks on his arm plates. The black warrior's armor paint had slagged and melted in stripes across his arm and side chest.

"Didn't know that fighting inside our quarters would cause damage? Or acting like sparklings could result in injuries that I have to fix!"

"We didn't know that human construction would have water pipes and electrical wiring in the same wall," Optimus stated. His armor was likewise energy arced and he grimaced, shaking the remaining water out of his arm joint. A crushed, flattened piece of piping fell out to clatter onto the pristine floor.

"Poor design does not excuse poor judgment!" Ratchet raged. "You knew the power systems were set to our standards not earth's! We sat through how many meetings to get military clearance and Wheeljack's attempts to make it stronger without blacking out half the continent?" The yellow green mech glared between the two of them. "Your hitting, correction smashing into that wall burst the pipes as the current triggered, downing the power grid to a third of the base and nearly frying you both!"

"Felt pretty good," Ironhide shrugged.

"Good? Elita is one day away from delivering and has to recharge in the main hangar while emergency repairs are ongoing!"

"You did say we should try it." Optimus said, his regal baritone defiant.

"What? When the $%&$? I don't remember that," Ratchet growled, another wrench slipping into his hand.

"First day arriving on earth, I recall," the Prime stated while rubbing at his torn facemask edge. "We were hiding from Sam's parents while he searched for his grandfather's glasses and you hit the power lines."

"Energy crackling before you crushed the neighbor's greenhouse," Ironhide smirked, gesturing the bot spinning and falling flat.

The medic opened his lip plates to deny it then felt his faceplates heat. Memory cores replayed the incident. "That was almost seven years ago! An accident," he sputtered.

"There are no accidents," his own voice replayed from both of them before they broke off laughing.

"Times telling the twins that, over three hundred," Optimus stated in his normal voice, his blue optics twinkling.

"Repair us Ratchet and let us get back to our femmes already," the black warrior mech stated. "Or let the femmes help. Elita needs him."

Ratchet softened, wanting to keep her happy and away from his med bay until the scheduled delivery time. "I promise not to tell them how you got charred and you never mention that event again."

Two hours later, Optimus rolled into the main hangar, impressed at the speed and quality of the building repairs by his team. 'Wish they showed that much enthusiasm for the tasks I assign them,' he processed, transforming into his bi pedal mode. 'Every mech and half the humans volunteered for an all night shift. Our quarters will be ready by sunrise then by sunset I will be a parental mech.' The smile on his faceplates was as wide as they could form.

"Cybertron control to Prime. You there?" Elita waved. The silver colored femme reclined against the wall, her feet tucked to the side as she waited. Most of her external armor was back in place, a few pieces missing around her chest plates and shoulders.

"Still running hot?" he knelt by her, taking her armored hand into both of his. His optics scanned her intently, the readings from the sparkling sensor running continually in the corner of his optical display.

"Better in the last breem or so. The walk between buildings seemed to readjust my sensors. My protoform itches with the increased energy," she shifted her shoulder plates.

"Metal does not itch. Sensors can relay data only," he reminded gently.

"Human term and it fits. As does smexi, which is you without your battle mask," she said.

"Smexi?"

"Sexy is for humans and we are mechs so smexi," she winked an optic, leaning forward to nuzzle his armor, playfully nipping at his neck cables. He vented, tightening his grasp on her before activating their internal comm.

::Elita! This is a little public:: Optimus

::Then order the humans out:: Elita

::And you are in no condition for our…activities:: Optimus

::Our activities created this sparkling:: Elita reminded with a smirk on her face but leaned back against the wall. "Help me up please." He supported her grip, helping her rise to her feet pads. She vented suddenly, pulling a hand free to press against her chest plates. He frowned, watching readings flash from her implanted sensor.

::Relax both of you. The sparkling is moving. I am monitoring the readings too:: Ratchet abruptly commed them both. ::I am en route to double check and yes this is normal:: Chief Medical Officer Ratchet.

Elita closed her optics, focusing on the movement around her spark. Optimus placed a hand over her chest plates feeling nothing of the energy essence but watching the readings intently. "Active little sparkling," he commented.

"I bet you were even worse for your parental femme," Elita commented, opening her optics. "Think we should allow wheels in the first shell?"

"I planned on it," Ratchet commented, striding in. "Payback for all the grief I've had to endure from you two over the ages." Both protested as he held the scanner over her chassis. "Your systems are reacting to the sparkling more than your core signals. Easy," he braced her on the right as Optimus held her on the left with her twitching movement. "The sparkling is moving higher around your spark and crossed your lay lines. Triggered your motion sensors on that side. Be grateful."

"For?" she asked, venting rapidly from the ghosting sensations.

"Grateful you only have a few joors and you will be holding your sparkling, listening to it squeal to be fed and tanks drained," he said. "If you were carrying the protoform shell you would be carrying for orns, leeching metals and alloys off your core systems, your protoform would extend and the release could rip your armor apart."

She swayed on her feet pads, holding tightly to Optimus.

"Ratchet," he growled.

"Sorry Prime, Elita. The energy essence will be transferred tomorrow into the shell Wheeljack and I made. Any of us can do it. There is no danger to you or the sparkling," the medic reassured. "I can tell you its gender."

"No!" they both stated firmly.

"Vorns of scientific discoveries and advanced research and you want to be surprised, how primitive," he grumbled, replacing the scanner in his leg hatch before walking away.

_To be continued..._


	16. Chapter 16 Inbound and Incoming

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews and the time for the sparkling to arrive is finally here. The Decepticons return and the fun continues. I did mention the birthing sequence before and using it there gave me the idea for this fic as well as ladyofdarkstar's wonderful fic "what comes around."

In Transformers the Movie 1 watch Jazz in the fights. His shield flips out from his arm to form a circle and fires a blast from the center. Mentioned here. Transformers the Movie 3 will begin filming in May 2010. Rumor has it there will be a 3-D version. Here's hoping Elita and the other seekers are there too. And not in a dumb way.

TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TRANSFORMERS

High over the blue green Indian Ocean, three F-22 Raptor fighter jets flew side by side. Two were steady while the middle one, its outer shell pitted and damaged, wavered in its course.

"You've had some cracked processing Screamer but this takes the careburundum cake," Skywarp complained. He flew the left wingman position and only the irritation of his vocals expressed his feelings. His purple armor blended in with the rising sunrise more than Starscream's silver or the other seeker's deeper blue armor.

"For once I agree," Thundercracker chimed in from the right side. "She is an Autobot ground roller. Can't fly and those humans! They are never worthy adversaries. The Decepticons are forged through combat, not slaughter. Fleshies are not worth the effort to target. Worse, your plans always get us shot up, shot down and just plain shot. I don't process why we need to fly all the way to Diego Garcia for this."

"You don't process you follow! I am your air Commander and leader of this trine!" the silver jet screeched. He veered right with tilting wings, forcing the other jet to rise to avoid a collision.

"Should you be pulling those maneuvers? Soundwave brought you back looking sparkless. Constructions spent more time on your repairs than they take processing how to open a door that swings outward," Skywarp cautioned.

"Megatron is busy and Elita is mine," he snapped back.

"Meaning you snuck out of repair bay," Thundercracker corrected, lowering back down to a normal triangular flight pattern.

"I don't sneak anywhere and if you put this much effort into battle against the Autobots this war would be over!" He roared ahead, black smoke trailing from his engines as their sound stumbled and coughed.

::Ten thousand credits his cockpit is on Prime's wall in half a joor and we're stuck telling Megatron what happened:: Thundercracker sent on a private frequency.

:Huh, no bet. That femme of Prime's won't leave enough to display and we only have to provide cover. The video feed will be our alibi. See Megatron, he went insane and we tried to lay down strafing fire for him to escape as they ripped him apart:: Skywarp chuckled.

::You are one sick 'Con you know that?:: Thundercracker

::How do you think I get along with Megatron and Starscream?:: Skywarp

::Point:: Thundercracker answered before closing the comm line. Long range sensors detected the cruise ship below. He alone watched it from a distance, as they went overhead and as it faded beyond range as they continued onward. His fascination with their actions helped keep his processors off what they were about to attempt.

**Diego Garcia Base**

**Morning- Delivery day**

"Smell that clean sea air!" Jazz enthused, his battle visor retracted for once from his light blue optics. He spun on his feet pads, nimbly moving between the other two bots. The sea breeze rustled the palm trees by the buildings, caring the sounds of the ocean waves and screaming seagulls.

"We don't smell as we don't have noses, lungs or the need for air," Wheeljack corrected, his sidebars flashing blue green. The civilian scientist watched the birds soaring above while running computations for increasing the Aerialbots aeronautics based on their movements.

"Party pooper," Jazz retorted, faint blue optics narrowing. "Blame the bug bot Bee! His translation program keyed us into the word smell. No other word he picked describes the total data correlation of our systems. Ironhide says, "I smell 'im." Ratchet smells hormone levels in the humans," he continued rattling off examples as Elita snickered behind her silver hand at them.

'And Optimus worried about me getting distracted. They must be practice for watching our sparkling,' she processed. 'Primus I am glad to be outside. Our quarters are almost repaired thankfully. Would have been already had the teams not left. Humans panic at the slightest comet sightings, yelling for us. Prime left as if he was dragging off to an all day budget meeting. Not like I could go with them.' She stopped, hopping to the side as the two wrestling mechs nearly hit her legs. Jazz heaved, throwing Wheeljack over and pinning him facemask down, twisting his arm behind his green and white back plates.

"Enough children," she teased, waiting for them to disentangle. They began an animated discussion on their moves, how to counter them and if it would work on different size mechs while totally ignoring her. 'Sleeping one night on the hangar floor was enough for a lifetime. Unable to transform, forced to lie on my side, to online to a dozen mechs smirking at us. Optimus wrapped around me, cuddling and they act as if they have never seen us together. We were not doing anything. All our armor was on,' she pondered then stopped. Internal sensors detected the inbound seekers the same instant the far distance intercept alarms shattered the calm air. Jazz stepped in front of her, nearly colliding with Wheeljack moving in from the other side. Their height, she crouched down to see under their arms and called her rifle from subspace then remembered as it failed to appear. "Slag it!"

"Inbound Decepticons! Three seekers!" they acknowledged.

"We got you covered, run for med bay. It's heavily fortified," Wheeljack ordered, his side bars flashing orange of alarm as his shoulder cannon swung up and charged.

"I'm not running anywhere. Prime has my rifle, I need one of your guns," she rapped on Jazz's back shoulder plates with her tightly curled armored fist.

"Mine? Take my shield, the blaster fires in the center. Short range but give you cover too," he unclamped it from his left arm and activated it to spin out fully.

"I have a spare shoulder cannon," Wheeljack offered.

"Kick is too massive and I... we... need my upper chassis steady," she reminded. All three jerked skyward as targets arrays cross locked on them. Movement was instantaneous and preprogrammed. Elita dove flat out, tucking her feet and rolling to curl onto her side as the blast hit. The seekers jets roared overhead before they banked and strafed back. Weight covered her, pinning her down even as her systems kicked into overdrive. Energon raced into core processors, battle computers trying to online to hit a medical lockout.

_SYSTEM OVERRIDE_

_BATTLE SYSTEM CORES, TRANSFORM, TRANS SCAN LOCKED DOWN _

_COMMAND AUTHORIZATION REQUIRED - CHIEF MEDICAL OFFICER RATCHET_

'I am going to offline that medic when he returns,' she growled, pushing at the heavy debris on her.

"Owww, hurts man," Jazz's broken vocal sounded practically in her audio. Onlining her optics she gazed at his blue battle visor.

Primus!" she swore, sliding out under his damaged form. His armor smoked, shrapnel embedded from back plates down to his damaged legs. Dark fluids leaked but none were the blue of energon. "What were you processing?"

"Protecting...two...lives...our hope," he vented out, reaching and pushing her away. Wheeljack stood nearby, firing rapidly with his shoulder cannon and two hand held blasters. Across the tarmac, Hound's alt mode jeep raced into view, leading the human soldiers and their armored vehicles. Transforming to his bi pedal mode, he crouched to subspace out a medical pack, looking skyward. The air shimmered with a thousand lights as his hologram solidified into existence. He focused at her with a look part panic part anger.

"Elita get clear! My hologram will cover long enough to move Jazz to cover," he ordered, throwing on emergency patches over the biggest holes.

"I'm armed and I'm staying," she said, hefting the blast shield.

"You need to get to safety. You're spark carrying!" Hound challenged. "If you won't leave I'll drag you off and he needs me worse."

"You're right. I'm going," they ducked as explosions rattled around them. She waited for the humans to fire their sabot rounds, forcing the seekers to split different directions to evade. Snarling, she ran for the distant building, her spark twisting within her for leaving the battle and an injured mech behind.

Rounding the building's far end, the swoosh of air was her only warning to dive down as a Seeker blasted overhead. His wingtips nearly brushed the concrete roof tops as his jet wash ripped branches from the nearby palm trees. "Starscream," her blue optics narrowed and began deepening to purple as the red of her anger filled them. He turned on wingtip, wobbling towards the trees and power lines.

Smirking, the plan formulated and completed in an astro second. Four steps and her hand grabbed the metal cable the soldiers used to pull heavy equipment laying it at her feet. Her hands bent the metal pole meant to keep them in the parking space and not hitting the building into a hook. "Ever landed on an aircraft carrier? Seen the cable hook that catches and slows aircraft?" she murmured as Starscream glided back, taking weapons fire from the mechs but shaking it off. Elita's perception of time slowed as he neared. The hook and cable sailed out of her hands, snagging into the gap where his simulated front wheel would extend. The metal cable spun out lengthening as it unwound from the massive winch.

The twang of the cable as it strung tight went unnoticed under his panicked scream as his chassis stopped then flipped end over end. The hook fell to the ground with a piece of his armor pierced on it. His silver form was lost crashing through the palms on the beach edge. Salt water exploded into the air as cheers across the base rang out.

"One down, two to go," her blazing optics searched for the others. A blur of purple crossed her peripheral vision. Skywarp dove down before the tell tale flash of his teleportation erupted across the tree line. "COWARDS!" she screamed then vented, scuffing a foot pad on the ground. Sensors tracked the third seeker racing away from the base opposite direction.

::Elita answer me! Are you functional?:: Hound sent over the comm. The static of his signal indicated multiple links into it as they all waited to hear from her.

::I'm fine:: Elita rubbed at her chest plates as the feeling of itching increased. ::They got away::

::We'll get them. Nice catch by the way:: Hound

::It's a femme thing to hook a mech. Though Optimus is still the biggest catch of my existence:: Elita

::I wouldn't doubt that in the least:: Hound

**Diego Garcia Base**

**Mid Day - Delivery day**

Hours later the itch had settled back to bearable levels. 'I don't care what he says, the spire metal under my plates itch," Elita protested. Her sliver-plated form stood erect at attention as her sparkmate and Prime rolled out of the cargo bay in his alt mode. Transforming he headed directly for her.

"How did huff!" she vented as his arms nearly crushed her mid plating. Giggling, she shivered as his lip plates roamed across her entire face and down her neck plates.

"My beloved Ariel," he murmured huskily as his deep blue optics hovered above hers.

"Ahem, you're blocking the way," Ironhide said, leaning around his red and blue armored side to wink at the femme.

"Go around," Optimus told his oldest friend.

"With an aft that size it might take awhile," He joked then ran a few quick steps as Prime released Elita to take a swing at him.

"Now mechs play nice," she laughed.

"We do the work and they play," Hound commented to her as he stepped alongside.

"When I get my hands on Starscream I will not play," Prime stated, turning back to face them. He pulled his old rifle out of subspace, returning it to her. "Status report."

"Three seekers attacked and retreated but not before Elita threw Starscream back out to sea," he said.

"Why would you do that? The pressure and cold isn't anywhere near the Laurentian abyss" Cliffjumper puzzled. The red mini bot tapped his foot pad as he tried to figure out the why.

"He was under the limit allowed to keep," Hound laughed, holding both hands close together as though a tiny size was in between.

Elita laughed, cuddling against her larger mate with rifle in hand. The spark sensor registered her increased vitals and the spark's merry movements without correlating the data. Ratchet could have but focused on the bots needing repairs. The sparkling responded, absorbing the last of her excess energy and growing, readying for its existence in the outside world ahead of schedule.

**Diego Garcia Base**

**Late Afternoon - Delivery day**

::Optimus, I need you in your quarters quick as you can get here:: Ratchet ordered over their internal comm line.

::Why? I am in the middle of a multinational conference call that took months to coordinate:: Optimus responded, trying not to vent as the communications microphone was active near his faceplates. The images of the assembled humans surrounded his console as his screen for them displayed only the red Autobot symbol.

::Elita's sparkling essence is ready as in ready right now. Wheeljack is here with the shell but she is refusing to let us touch her until you arrive and we dare not move her. We cannot wait much longer:: Ratchet

::NOW? IT IS COMING NOW?:: Optimus sent before recovering. ::You said it would arrive later and even scheduled the exact time in med bay this evening::

::Life has its own schedule:: Ratchet closed the line, calculating how long until heavy treads thudded in the outer hallway. Inside the private quarters, the silver-colored femme sat on the recharge berth with her back against the wall. Her chest panels were open and the restraining field fluctuated around her spark spires and the brilliant mini spark.

"Now Elita, be reasonable," Wheeljack murmured, his cooling fans whirring frantically as the huge black muzzle pointed at his mid plates.

"When Optimus arrives," she growled, her optics nearly purple with intensity. Her rifle, Prime's former one was in her hand.

::Back away slowly 'Jack. Her protective protocols are activating:: Ratchet sent without moving from his position by the far door.

::The sparkling has to be moved:: Wheeljack

::It will be. You move back before I need to scrape you off the floor:: Ratchet warned then vented softly, feeling and hearing Prime's approach. Both mechs turned sideways, flattening as their bulky chassis would allow as a large blue and red blur rushed into the room. The medic's optics shuttered from the air venting through Prime's systems.

Optimus chirped and clicked in the ancient language of the Primes faster than either mech could follow. Elita nodded, lowering her rifle and returning into subspace. He leaned forward to comfort her when it happened.

SNIZT!

"Ratchet!" Optimus froze, his optics wide as they could go as he swung around, his hands held together and shaking.

The medic grabbed the shell from Wheeljack and slid the open chest compartment under him. "Tilt your hands and release the sparkling essence. Gently now."

The tiny light fell through the small gap, settling softly into the open space. It pulsed once, twice then steadied as it adapted to the circular shape. Optimus flexed his hands, tingling from its energy echo. "Cannot wait little one?" He chuckled as the mini plates closed, humming with surging power. Elita leaned forward, her chest plates closing as her blue optics focused on their new sparkling.

"Already a Prime. Doing the unexpected. Definitely your son Orion," she spoke softly into his audio. He leaned his helm her direction, gently sliding it against hers in a caress.

Ratchet handed her the dark grey mech sparkling, his tiny optics opening for the first time. Both parents leaned in close, their sparks surging with happiness as he recognized them. Wheeljack moved slowly towards the main door, waiting for the medic's diagnosis.

::Fully functional and normal. Let's give them privacy to enjoy this moment:: Ratchet winked an optic, following the civilian scientist into the hallway.

_To be continued..._


	17. Chapter 17 Pyxis is lost and found

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. Thanks to reader faecat for her femme comment. No sparklings or humans were hurt in the writing of this chapter. Onward to cuddling and spoiling.

TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TRANSFORMERS

**OPTIMUS AND ELITA'S PRIVATE QUARTERS**

**MAIN ROOM**

Elita's footpad tapped a small metal bucket. "One of the repair workers must have left this behind. Should be moved before some bot trips on it."

Ratchet and Ironhide exchanged a wordless look. Both were checking on her and her sparkmate in the early dawn. The first night they had let them bond as a family. But the base remained on high alert following the Decepticon attack and the Autobots had more to lose now than the day of the attack.

The mech's optics snapped to Optimus. His lip plates twitched with amusement. 'Should I tell her it's for the parts they thought she might rip off me while still in the carrying stage? No,' he decided. A quick memory core search reminded him how long it took the nannites to repair her fist indents from his faceplates.

She glanced across the room, frowning at the temperature wall-setting unit. "Why is there a mini blast shield on the unit? The sparkling cannot reach that high. Not even with the help of a chair." Her optics focsued on the tiny life she cradled.

"Do not discount a sparkling's intelligence at later stages. Its base coding is a mix of yours and big bot over there," the medic reminded.

"Why thank you Ratchet," Optimus stated, rubbing an armored finger across his sparkling's helm gently.

"That wasn't a compliment. You two have created more processor aches than the rest of your teams combined," he grumbled.

"Speaking of creating aches, undo your medical overrides please," she asked, the command tone in her vocals.

"Are you sure?" Optimus questioned, placing one armored hand on her shoulder. "I don't want your systems strained."

::Femme = danger. Angry Femme = grave danger. Angry weapon carrying transforming Femme = What the slag are you processing by standing there and not running?:: Ironhide sent to Ratchet.

::Medic to femmes = Processing why you became a medic. Processor said to help:: Ratchet

::Your processor is cracked:: Ironhide

::How else have I been putting up with you all these centuries?:: Ratchet sent then switched back to verbal communication. "What is your decision?"

"Hum? Oh sorry. Got distracted watching him," Optimus sheepishly admitted, straightening from bending over the sparkling in her arms.

"That's answer enough," he muttered.

_SYSTEM OVERRIDE_

_BATTLE SYSTEM CORES, TRANSFORM, TRANS SCAN CONTROLS RELEASED _

_COMMAND AUTHORIZATION ISSUED - CHIEF MEDICAL OFFICER RATCHET_

Elita grinned, glancing down at the sparkling in her arms. "Ready to see your femme normal?"

"Been praying to Primus for it," Optimus mumbled then took a step back as she glared and the other mechs laughed.

**TWO WEEKS LATER**

**AUTOBOT PRIVATE QUARTERS**

"You sleep walking? Or your directional locator on the fritz?" a familiar mech's vocal sounded from behind Optimus. The ancient Prime turned on his feet pads, identifying Jazz leaning against the wall by the side entrance. He stopped walking as his weary optics scanned the resident thief and saboteur. His white armor appeared intact and his systems fully repaired. Optimus made a mental note to find a personal way to thank him later for his protection over Elita. The sparkling in his red and blue armored arms shifted, opening its tiny mouth to protest until he began walking again.

"I stop moving and he cries," Optimus explained over his shoulder, continuing away from the black and white mech.

"Heard him earlier. Man, what a set of vocals!" the spy stated his appreciation.

"Fuel, recharge and protest when he doesn't get enough of the first two. I don't remember any other sparkling being this much of a handful."

"Your fault as Elita tells it," Jazz smirked.

"My fault? It takes two willing sparks," he corrected, reaching the end of the hallway and making a return path.

"Your fault as in you spoil rotten the little guy. He twitches and big daddy is there with bottle, wipes and loving armored arms," he teased.

"Love does not spoil a sparkling, a lack of discipline does. Pyxis will have all he needs," Optimus stated.

"And all he wants if this is any indication," he motioned to the small shape gently being walked up and down the hallway.

"He is less than two earth weeks old. Ratchet believes he will accommodate to night and day shortly and recharge when we do at more acceptable times."

"Really? I thought it being 4 am right now local time was an acceptable time. Finished patrol, about to grab some energon and find one of those hot…."

"Hey! He's too young to hear about that!" Optimus protested, his faceplates forming a stern commander look.

"Hot car that is actually a robot stories on the internet and don't worry boss bot. I ain't corrupting the next generation. Save that for the twins and humans," he finished.

"Oh," he rubbed his free hand across his optics before venting, the sound jagged and rough.

"Do you need me to walk him?"

"No, any other bot except Elita or I and he won't recharge," the ancient leader vented again before shifting with an audible sound of gears and hydraulics towards their quarters. He remembered Jazz walking away as the doors to their room slid open.

Too tired to engage full sensors, he misjudged and hit the frame edge with his shoulder, the pain sensors jolting him as hands automatically cradled the sparkling to protect. Snuggling in the dark cocoon shape of his palms, the sparkling slipped into recharge. "Finally," he kept his hands cupped together until reaching their berth, Elita deeply recharging on it. Her external armor was back to being rose colored and her alt mode to normal, leaving the curves and squares to her form he treasured. He laid the sparkling in the tiny bunk attached to the sidewall above their heads.

"You and Elita have a fight?" Ironhide's black armored face was the first object his optics focused on when onlining.

"No, why?" He recoiled, shuttering at the view as systems slowly began rebooting.

"Thought maybe she kicked you off the recharge berth for spoiling that kid of yours. You're slumped in the corner of your main room. Door to the recharge area is locked," the warrior specialist explained.

"I placed Pyxis with her and went looking for energon," he mumbled, rising to his normal twenty eight foot height.

"That explains the energon cubes on the floor. How about looking for a naming database? Pyxis is a terrible name for a warrior," Ironhide vented, reaching down and grabbing a cube.

"Means guide and Elita agreed to it," he reminded while accepting the oversized energon cube gratefully.

"Did she agree to the meeting reschedule this morning? You did and are going to be late. Prowl sent me to find you. You weren't answering your comm calls," Ironhide said.

"It was disengaged. Let's go. I'll have Chromia check on them later until I can return."

An hour later, Elita groaned, rubbing at her optics. "I need the wash racks." Clicking sounded from the little bunk on the wall. Leaning up, tiny blue optics widened in recognition. The urgency of the clicks increased.

"Is my little bundle of charged wires needing fuel? I bet your tank is dry, yes it is. I'll fix that, yes I will." The clicks slowed as she lifted him and his blanket up and carried him into the prep area of the main room.

"Slag, the energon is empty." The sparkling waved his arms and feet pads at her before clutching tiny fingers around his blanket. "No, don't put that in between your lip plates. The threads will jam your jaw gears." He fussed and she sat him on the floor, triggering the black square box on the table. A restraining energy field sprang up around him.

"Be right back. Going to borrow some from Ratchet's quarters. He keeps the emergency stores there. Not like he uses the room for much else," the tall femme reassured as she moved out of his view range.

Ten minutes later Elita returned, energon spare cubes in both hands and a smile on her faceplates. "See? Lots and lots of..."

::OPTIMUS! PYXIS IS GONE!:: Elita's broken spark cry literally threw him to his feet pads, the meeting forgotten as his battle systems charged. His rifle slid out of subspace into his hand as his battle mask engaged. The humans at the table barely had time to gasp and begin to react as he snapped his entire frame to the west her direction.

::Gone?:: Optimus

::They took him! I left to go two doors down and he's GONE! Human markers all over the room and hallway, tracking now to the outside:: Elita's tone was desperate and fierce.

_EMERGENCY AUTOBOT COMMAND ALL CALL - PRIME_

::Human or humans unknown have taken Pyxis from our quarters. Find them!:: Optimus roared as his massive steps covered the tarmac. He never remembered leaving the hangar, his only processing to reach his sparkling. Heavy treads and energy signatures confirmed Ironhide and Prowl followed behind, as they were unable to match the length of his strides.

The base alarms sounded, the word spreading from frequency to frequency as Prime monitored for any sighting.

"Lock this place down! I want nothing off this island! Not a ship, plane or a frigging dust mote until I clear it!" Major Lennox's angry commands over the com channels provide reassurance but little comfort as he neared the Autobot quarters.

"Sergeant Bearings east side. Got 'em! Trying to sneak the little bugger out with the diplomatic mail. Only way off base that isn't monitored and," the man's voice disappeared under a piercing wail of an awake and hungry sparkling. Static interrupted the transmission but it was enough. Optimus pounded eastward, Elita's rose colored bi pedal shape coming in from the side. Energy signatures flashed across his sensors in all directions the Autobots closed in. He heard the crying before seeing him hugged by the human sergeant. The man instantly raised him as high up as he could, transferring him then moving back as Elita charged right up alongside.

"He needs energon," she stated, optics nearly purple. Her left shoulder plate rotated and shifting to the side. The blazing purity of her spark began showing as more parts rotated and moved.

"What are you doing?" He asked as their sparkling wailed its hunger.

"Under my lay line is a small relay tube for my spark pulsar. Small enough for him and diluted enough to feed him safely," her optics dimmed as overrides engaged.

"You hold him and let me move it. I can see what I'm doing," Optimus reached in once she held Pyxis, removing a clamp with one free hand to unhook the thin line and pull it outwards. He kept the line pinched until the sparkling pulled on the end before uncrimping it. Thin blue energon flowed and Pyxis sucked it in greedily. The warmth and light of her spark reflected across his tiny faceplates even as one of his tiny hands rested on her spark spires.

Major Lennox blinked before coughing and looking away. A quick glance confirmed his men were looking anywhere but at the Transformer parents.

"I thought they didn't...you know? Being mechanical and all," Sergeant Epps began. The black officer seemed at a lost for words.

"Breast feed? They don't. It is more an emergency refill. Like refueling a plane in the air," the Major covered.

"Uh huh, keep telling yourself that," the man holstered his weapon and began ordering the others to continue their search for the abductor. Prowl, Jazz, Arcee and the twins joined them, trying to determine where the human's path continued after placing the sparkling in a cloth mailbag.

Optimus leaned his helm in to touch Elita's in physical reassurance and use his bulk to hide the sight of her spark from the others.

::I should never have left him:: Elita

::I never thought the humans would touch him. The fault is mine as well::: Optimus

:: It is no bot's fault and I will keep emphasizing that, with wrenches if necessary until both your processors absorb it. And he could have waited for Wheeljack to bring a freshly filled bottle:: Ratchet broke in on their private line. The yellow green armored medic tapped one foot pad in exasperation nearby.

"He was hungry!" they both protested at the same time.

"Truly an emergency," he frowned, crossing his arms as his enhanced optics slowed. "No physical or coding damage as far as I can determine. Once filled he should slip back into recharge and do not give him that grade again. It is too rich and should be reserved as a rare treat. He is to be fed from a bottle, then a cube, while sitting on his aft at a table. Unless you want to fuel him every time and end up with a youngling that never leaves your arms."

Both of them observed his tiny form against her spark spires. "I could handle that," Elita's loving tone expressed her approval.

"So could I," Optimus agreed, wrapping a blue armored arm around her hip plates to snuggle them both.

"Why do I bother? Be the only youngling in its fourth shell still carried around and cuddled. I hope he picks a color less vivid than you two," Ratchet said.

::In pursuit of the human. You want him offlined or crippled?:: Ironhide

::Neither. I want him intact for questioning:: Optimus swung the direction of his incoming signal.

::Define intact and hurry. Another astro second and my foot pad will be on him:: Ironhide

_To be continued..._


	18. Chapter 18 Why a human would act

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. There is more to anyone than meets the eye, as the Transformers are about to discover. Being right does not excuse wrong actions, it is still wrong.

Thanks to fellow writer ladyofdarkstar for her suggestion of the Elita and Optimus scene. Onward to the why and understanding.

TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TRANSFORMERS

**EAST TARMAC**

The man panted, crouching behind the wooden crates. A tropical breeze ruffled his hair and carried the scent of the sea mixed with the metallic tang of the military base. Yells and running footsteps nearby had him bracing, both hands wrapping around the handgun grip. Middle age, silver hairs lined his dark brown hair as narrowed brown eyes showed wrinkles on the edges. His lean body was muscular and battle scarred as any NEST team member. Uniform patches identified him as a sabot gunner and base support. The other soldiers continued past his hiding spot as he propped against the crate. Sweat dripped down his forehead as stains darkened the armpits of his uniform. "I need to reach the docks. Only way off in a lockdown."

A black mass overshadowed and he reacted as trained, firing at the weaker chest armor. Intellectually he knew only one Transformer had all black armor and would be on Diego Garcia but his mind was focused on survival.

Ironhide's arm immediately rose per programming the split second his sensors detected the rise of the handgun towards him. The thick plating deflected the hollow point bullets as the inward rotation of his arm protected the attached war cannon. Its armor was strong but the rolling parts remained a weakness for something small as a human bullet to jam a gear. His indigo optics tightened as the human continued firing, still clicking the trigger after the last cartridge ejected.

The NEST soldiers, led by Master Sergeant Epps stayed back, watching as Ironhide raised his foot pad and brought it down over the man.

CLANG!

Epps closed his eyes, turning away as the sound of metal cracking on tarmac pavement. Yet, like the crowd that sees the train bearing down on the stalled car and unable to look away, he opened his eyes and stared. Ironhide's black armored leg still hovered in the air, his multi pronged foot pads nearly straight up and down around the man. The curled in a tight ball on the pavement living and intact man.

"Wow. That was some restraint. I thought you were going to squish him like a bug," Epps whistled in appreciation but not moving closer.

"Humph. Take forever to clean my gears of blood and flesh if I did," the weapon's specialist commented before withdrawing his footpad up and away. Two soldiers ran forward, pinning the man in place and handcuffing him.

"Why did you risk the sparkling?" Ironhide challenged, leaning his indigo optics close to the man. Even the glowing end of both war cannons perilously close to his skin triggered no reaction. Head down, he remained quiet the entire time from his arrest to the main hangar.

"Optimus, under treaty law, acts against you are handled by joint prosecution. But you have the right to question the suspect before then. If you need, I and the men holding him can step out for a minute or two," Major Lennox noted. His muscular frame was taunt within his uniform even as he remained professionally calm and commanding outwardly.

"He ain't the talking type," Ironhide said.

"He needs a trained listener," Ratchet stepped in front of the warrior mech and closer to the high platform edge. "I've listened to all types of human cries and know their systems better than any." His fingers began transmorphing into all types of bladed and armor cutting tools.

::Ratchet! We do not harm humans. However tempting it might be:: Optimus sent on the general comm. He moved behind the medic, ready to grab the astro second he truly threatened the man.

::I will not touch him. Checking my equipment for repairs later. Been rather busy lately:: Ratchet spun the blade saws then pretended to measure the man for height and distance to him.

"At least answer why or I let Doc here treat you," Will threatened.

"You want to know why?" He raised his head, his tone angry and erratic. "Because of them I've lost everything, that's why! My wife died at Mission City. That office building you blasted backwards through Prime? The debris rained down on her car. She died from her injuries before they could even cut her free." His voice caught in a sob before he straightened and glared. "I was still in route trying to reach the city when they moved her body to the morgue. I joined to make it stop. And it didn't!" He pulled against the men holding him.

"We are not responsible for the actions of the Decepticons. They attack irregardless of your race and habitations. In every encounter we attempt to minimize collateral damage," Prowl stated. His black and white wing doors drooped low. "I understand your pain but not your actions. War does not justify criminal acts."

"Your war our blood! Our losses! Were your losses not enough that we pay the price now? Egypt, Shanghai! Where else huh? Where else is your fighting going to kill our families? My son doesn't even know me! Raised by my parents while I serve and he doesn't even know me," he relaxed in their grip.

"And that gave you the right to take their son?" Will snapped.

"He promised me everything, money to quit and be with my son. To make it all right," he muttered.

"Who promised?" Prowl 's tactician mode jumped on his wording immediately

"Our contact. The deep voice on the communicator. Ahrens and Smith needed the money to pay off debts. I only wanted to be with my son," he wilted even more.

"You told this contact about Pyxis?" Optimus spark nearly stuttered waiting for the answer. Ratchet and Ironhide waited optics intense as the man hesitated.

"No, not yet," he shook his head side to side negative. "I thought since he wanted a smaller mech the little one would do. Sneak it off base and tell him where to pick it up. It's small enough to fit in a mail bag and metal to survive being tossed onto the courier boat and the docks."

"And diplomatic mail is never scanned or inspected. All right, take him away. Solitary confinement and absolutely no outside communications," Will ordered.

"Now what Prime?"

"We see he gets the care he needs. The rest time will tell. Remain on alert and continue your duties. I would like to speak with Sergeant Bearings and thank him personally," Optimus stated.

**MAIN HANGAR**

**ONE HOUR LATER**

::I need your assistance with a matter sir:: Prowl sent on the command frequency to Prime alone.

::I need to be with my sparkmate and sparkling once this confernece call is done:: Optimus stated, his processor automatically noting the almost sheepish mental tone of his second in command. 'Hence,' he processed silently. 'Not a true emergency but a situation he does not want to deal with yet requires tactful handling of a command officer. Important enough to disturb me and not the others. Who did what now I wonder?'

::This is regarding your spark mate and sparkling. You need to see me first please. I am in the monitor room:: Prowl continued.

::Understood. Be there shortly:: Optimus closed the comm line before nodding towards Will. He waved out of camera range and smoothly stepped into the briefing to General Morshower on the situation and the new safeguards they were requesting for access on and off the island.

"A sparkling sir weighs approximately fifty pounds and is roughly the size of a tool box. The red oblong type you carry to a repair, not the huge rolling ones the mechanics use. They have limited mobility and are light sensitive. Cybertron's sun is not as bright and their first shell lacks the enhanced optical range of an adult," Will continued.

**AUTOBOT BRIG**

Optimus stood before the door to the brig cells and pulled air deeply into his vents. The tall red and blue mech remained immobile, his silver armored hand holding a cable's width from the control pad. 'This door represents me as Prime and command authority yet has been the source of my worse spark aches,' he reflected. He keyed the number code and strode through.

An optic arch rose at the scene. Inside the brig, three of the four cells were empty, recharge berths and tables cleaned and ready for use. The fourth cell, its energy bars dormant and the door ajar, held those most dear to him. Elita sat on the recharge bunk with her legs folded over each other as one armored hand held a data pad reader and the other an energon cube. Pyxis recharged in his portable recharge crib.

A hiss of hydraulics and shifting gears drew her attention upwards. Optimus gazed at them both, the centuries of his weariness and spark ache lost under the wonder and delight shining through his blazing blue optics.

"If you are concerned," he moved forward slowly to gauge her emotional state. "We can add security to our quarters or place a tracker on Pyxis. Wheeljack designed a micro size one for all his toys should they be misplaced. The alarms will trigger if he moves beyond the trackers even a micro inch."

She smiled at him, a true from the spark I am glad to see you smile she reserved for him alone. "The others mentioned taking shifts to guard us and I refused. We barely get alone time now without them jolting at the smallest signs of trouble."

"You prefer the privacy of the brig?"

"No but it seemed appropriate," she answered. The data pad reader dropped onto the bunk as she rose gracefully to her feet pads. Her arms opened, a clear invitation for physical contact. He entered the cell, savoring the way her armor fit against his as they hugged. The brig door closed quietly behind them. He felt the increasing pressure as she tightened her grip on him.

::What is wrong my beautiful Ariel?:: Optimus sent while returning the strength of her grip.

::I've been an aft and failed you:: Elita

"Never!" He switched to speech and shifted one hand to tilt her helm up. Her light blue optics remained down as his lip plates ghosted across her rose colored helm.

"I got processing," she began, pulling back out of his hug. She held out an armored hand towards him, reveling in the strength of the massive metal fingers that wrapped around her hand. The delicate touch spoke of his skill and control when he could have crushed her fingers like human tin. "About how quickly we could have lost our Pyxis. Not knowing where he was or what had happened nearly blew my spark. I didn't know if he was in danger or would appear and what condition he would be in. It gave me an understanding of what you must have felt when I failed to contact."

"I too feared the worse, both times. But my hopes were answered and I thank Primus for your love in my existence," he reassured.

"I'm thankful you didn't brig me for striking you. Twice."

"I did ask for it. Show me what you can do femme," he repeated chuckling.

"And I proved what I was capable of," Elita smiled.

"I never doubted your capabilities. You never truly surprise me," he smirked.

"Even when I paint your trailer purple?" She countered.

He vented, rubbing at his optics to stall and arrange his faceplates. Thousands of years of practice kept his vocals steady. "Even then. The mud flaps I am keeping."

"Ahem. Am I interrupting?" Prowl announced his presence. The tall black and white mech stood inside the main door with his optics averted.

"Not even. I was working on the sentencing now," Elita indicated the datapad. "I have an understanding of the law and would suggest the same recommendations for any of my femmes if they had done it. Full report, filed and perfect. Still working on the visiting and work schedule. Hard to adjust for what needs to be done for the sparkling."

"Sentencing on a crime never committed. Self-defense is precisely that, a defense. You were "set-up" as the humans use the term. I recommend you consult the database to assess all the known details of the situation. Relevant and influential discoveries occurred in your absence," he said.

"My dereliction of duty," she vented.

"Your preventive measures to escape Decepticon influence I believe is the phrasing. Moreover, being in charge over all of us is enough of a life's sentence. And visitors are not allowed in the brig except for official inspections. If you are intent on testing the automatics safeguards that disable your weapons and subspace pullers, I can spare you the effort. They are functioning as programmed the moment the brig door closed. I assume you found the area properly cleaned and set for the twins visit later?" Prowl asked.

"What have they done now?" Optimus asked, pinching his nose plates with one hand.

"Nothing to date. But they were observed heading for the beach carrying wood crates overflowing with metal clamps, beach umbrellas, armor paint and fifty pound sacks of potatoes." His blue optics rolled upwards before settling their direction and keying open the metal door.

"Too bad we can't lay a trap for them. Meet here and snag them before it hits the cooling fans," Elita commented. Optimus jerked to a stop, his processor running scenarios at super speed.

"You are truly my equal femme," he grabbed Elita with a smirk, pressing his lip plates against hers before releasing her. Pushing by Prowl, he began calling all his command officers to meet in the main hangar.

Elita's optics shuttered in surprise. "And I thought having a sparkling meant keeping him around more." The little mech in question slept on, full of energon and content with a parental spark nearby.

_to be continued..._


	19. Chapter 19 Lay the trap

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. And yeah to the craziness of the last two months easing off finally. Time to get back to posting all the ideas I could only jot down here and there between work and home life.

Thanks to ladyofdarkstar for her beta work with the Optimus and Elita scene. A shorter post to prep for battle. Stay tuned, the finale is about to begin.

TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TRANSFORMERS

**Diego Garcia Island, NEST military base, Indian Ocean**

**Autobot Main Hangar**

The Autobot command team faced the secret transmitter with a sense of anticipation. Optimus' massive military grade armor dwarfed his command counterparts, Prowl and Jazz. Only Ironhide with his reinforced chest armor came close to being able to take the same hit and remain unscathed. But it was the unseen presence, the command air and steady resolve of his personality that made him their leader by choice. And they waited for his commands.

The small square device rested inside a cube force field to block all signals in and out. "Trust humans to lose the first transmitter, acquire a second unit then locate the first without being smart enough to destroy the spare," Ratchet said.

"If they were smart they would not be hiding a secret transmitter," Optimus commented. His plan was simple, carefully planned and hidden from the rest of the base. "Hound," his massive blue and red flamed chassis turned towards the green armored scout. "Can you duplicate the voice of the sparkling napper?"

"Probably so. What did you have in mind?" he answered with the man's exact tenor voice.

"A little misdirection as it were. To scare our unknown shadow into the light," his square end finger tapped the force field edge surrounding the transmitter.

"And then Prime?" Prowl asked.

"Make sure it returns to the dark forever. Here is what we are going to do," he began outlining the plan.

Fifteen minutes later, the various voices transmitting over the communications device were reassuring.

"You actually caught a small mech alone?" the high-pitched whiny voice repeated, the tone of disbelief clear. "And you made the Autobot shoot at you using my enhancer? I knew it! I knew my plan was flawless! While in the brig, they are controlled and protected by NEST the rest of the time. However, once forced into stasis we will have him transferred."

"The other Autobots are away on a mission. The one left in charge has him in the brig even now. I did my part and you promised to pay. I want my reward," Hound reminded in the voice of the human. He crouched low over the device as his system rested in standby to suppress possible hydraulic and gear noises. The force field expansion barely covered his mid size bulk to lock out the sounds of the surrounding mechs as they listened in.

"You reward will be exactly as dealt provided you ensure delivery to these coordinates. Our associate will ensure travel plans are set once the worthless Autobot is loaded. Do not fail me," the deeper voice growled before disconnecting the line.

**Diego Garcia East Airfield Tarmac**

**Hangar Eleven Fourteen (Under Construction)**

Optimus glanced down at the orange and purple armored mini bot, resisting the urge to order him to comply. 'He is a construction engineer capable of design complexity and very effective at his job. When he quits complaining long enough to work. But the choice must be his.'

"Why me?" Huffer protested. The stocky mini bot stared upward at the command mechs. "I'm not the stealth type. I'm made for hauling not scouting. And this project isn't finished," he gestured toward the steel beams criss crossing in a support pattern for a new research hangar.

"Probability of capture meeting specific requirements," Prowl stated. Both wing doors were straight up with exasperation.

"Needs to be a smaller bot that they would believe a human to get," Hound explained. He had dealt with the most with the engineer and knew he would agree, once he complained enough first.

"Arcee volunteered but I will not endanger any of our remaining femmes under Decepticon control. And Elita will countermand and take the mission as Commander if we chose a femme and that is unacceptable," Optimus stated. No one made a sound of disagreement.

"Brawn is too tough to be grabbed, Powerglide too fast, Cosmos and Seaspray are away on a mission to Cybertron and Cliffjumper is weapons heavy," Ironhide continued. His matte black armor barely glinted in the sunlight of the tropical mid day.

"Bumblebee is known for his stealth techniques and alertness, no human being able to sneak up on him. And Megatron would oversee his capture and offlining immediately for revenge," Ratchet added.

"Which makes you the perfect bot for the job," Jazz said.

"Thanks, I guess," Huffer mumbled, one hand rubbing the side of his transform helm square. "Can't we forget about traipsing after the stupid Decepticons? I mean I'm willing to help but can we make plans to leave for Cybertron before we get stranded on this scrap ball forever? This plan seems dangerous. I bet it fails."

"Why are you always such a pessimist?" Jazz asked. Both sets of metal hand claws rested on the edges of his black hip plates.

"Because I'm either right or pleasantly surprised but never disappointed," Huffer explained. The dark green flash threw his form forward, blue optics fading out to grey as the optics shutters engaged.

Hound's blaster end ceased glowing as he met the startled stares of the others. The fact all their weapons were in their hands and aimed his way kept him immobile. "Surprise! Stun ray. What? Easier for Wheeljack to add the device this way. No griping, moaning or complaining."

"Ever heard of medically induced stasis?" Ratchet asked. His medically guided reflexes protected the falling form before it hit the concrete even as his diagnostic systems registered the lack of force or injury. He glanced from Huffer resting in his hands to the scout's direction.

"Probably. Mentioned in one of those boring medical reports I like to ignore," Hound quipped, returning his hand blaster to subspace.

"Ready him then transfer to the cargo plane. We leave in three breems. I have one last detail to oversee first," Optimus ordered. His massive red and blue frame moved agilely among the other bots as they began readying for departure.

**Autobot Quarters**

**Optimus & Elita's Rooms**

"Already has your characteristics," Elita said. Pyxis recharged on his dark protoform front, her hands gently resealing the plug on his tank disposal lines before thoroughly cleaning the attachment and her metal hands.

"Good looking and charming?" Optimus guessed. He stood directly behind her, waiting patiently as she finished.

"Refuel, recharge, and let his femme do all the work," she said, closing the tiny back hatch panel. Both hands held the little frame firmly, lifting and turning him onto his back plates.

"All the work? The worn path in the hallway is from my feet pads walking him every night." The sparkling rested between them, cradled in her rose-colored arm as the other hand stroked his helm vents.

"Do you know the humans have a betting pool on when that will stop? Apparently, they gave up on the how much he weighs or how much energon he consumes bets," she giggled.

"The one bet they will live long enough to collect. Major Lennox seemed surprised when I told him Pyxis will be a youngling still in our care when Annabelle's grandchildren are ready to have their children," Optimus said.

"Why?" Her blue optics swiveled up to his faceplates.

"Thought our systems were complete from the start and his tiny size was due to limited metals and technology here on earth," he said.

"We are autonomous sentient beings, not machines like a car or an air conditioner, build a metal form then add a power source. We have base programming, a complex code within our sparks for life and emotion. We grow, learn and develop," she grumbled. "Otherwise we wouldn't have sparklings, they would be mini bots. The more I know of the human race the less I want them to know of our race."

"This is why I limited the disclosure even to him. He knows Pyxis has very limited vision."

"Vision better than the humans," she interrupted. "He sees three dimensional and thermal. They can't even do that. For a species that uses hot and cool to describe things they lack fundamental scanning abilities."

He vented, recognizing her emotional state as tension before a battle, one he would be in but she could not. "Limited by our standards my love. I shortened it to Earth's sun is too bright compared to Cybertron's sun for continual exposure until he is older."

"Then Wheeljack or Ratchet can build protective lenses. The normal way our race handles a needed upgrade. Did the humans consider that? Did they? Why we need different shells as we age? They cannot even accurately calculate how long the battery lasts on an iPad and they think our mature sparks, containing all of our memories, along with our essence and personality mixes and wham! Instant Transformer. We have more lines of code to move our fingers than their best computer!"

"In time they will come to understand that," he agreed, moving closer to wrap his arms around her smaller armored frame.

"I'm not sure they are capable of understanding. They are a superstitious backwards race. They trust their 'gut instinct' on the battlefield over our hard core data."

"Their loss," he murmured, ghosting his lip plates across hers. "I treasure what I have."

"I too. We do good work," Elita murmured as Pyxis made clicking sounds while recharging.

"And my work is to ensure he reaches full frame," he said, hugging her tighter.

There remained silence between them after hundreds of partings over thousands of years. He knew she loved him with all her spark and feared he would be offlined and never return, as he feared losing her to an attack while he fought elsewhere. She was his strength and the reason he faced each day without a spark full of despair. Their devotion to each other and the hope for the war to finally end needed no words.

His red and blue frame disappeared out their door, a solitary monolith with the light glinting off his battle armor. The sparkling in her arms found himself held tighter against her chest plates. "You don't know it yet," she murmured softly. "But your mech is the best hope for our race. And if Primus is listening, you and Optimus will have vorns of peace to understand that."

_To be continued..._

_NEXT: Battle with the Decepticons and what did Wheeljack add to Huffer's combat systems? _


	20. Chapter 20 Fight time

Author's Notes: Thanks to every reader that has left reviews as they give me ideas and parts to work into the storyline. Hopefully you have enjoyed their adventures as much as I have.

Note: Sir Lanka is one of the nearest countries to Diego Garcia Island as the Decepticons would not be patient for their prize.

**Sri Lanka**

**Coastal Plain **

Optimus' metal finger tightened around his ion rifle trigger as Megatron and the seekers landed. 'A captive prisoner and he brings reinforcements.' Scanners and targeting locked down to avoid detection, only his optics moved to survey the area.

"This rolling plain is remote enough for our battle yet still dangerous. We cannot approach without detection, our taller forms making us a target against the low brush. Jamming technology cannot fool the optics except Mirage and he is busy elsewhere. Wheeljack, your device had better work. Ratchet can only repair and replace so many parts,' he processed silently. Coding engaged to smooth his energon flow in reaction to the worry he felt. 'The second team across the plain can be attacked and offlined before we reach them if detected. I would never admit to the others my concern, which is the price of command. Make the decisions and wait then pick up the pieces if I am wrong.' A soft tap on his wrist armor had his intense blue optics meeting the nearly purple optics of his weapons specialist. Ironhide moved his fingers in the Autobot combat code.

_Stop. Attack near. Plan good._

Prime smiled behind his battle mask, realizing his friend would be able to read the subtle signs of his uneasiness. His larger armored fingers flashed back his answer.

_Understood. Ready victory._

Prowl waited nearby with Wheeljack, his main system reviewing probability statistics.

_88% victory assured without twins Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. 28% probability the military will overlook and forgive their 'potato gun' attack on the submarines. 84% probability Huffer will experience unknown side effect from Wheeljack's device._ _100% probability Starscream will commit an impulsive and reckless action including but not limited to insulting fellow mechs, especially Megatron. _

Lower processors ran facts to keep him focused during the wait.

_Sri Lanka is officially the Democratic Socialist Republic of Sri Lanka. An island country in South Asia, located about 31 kilometers off the southern coast of India, sharing its common culture, language and religion. The country is famous for the production and export of tea, coffee, coconuts, rubber and cinnamon, native to the soil. An island known for its tropical forests and beaches._

Ahead on the flatter section of the plain, the three Decepticon jets completed their area sweep around the large wooden crate with NEST markings. "Report!" Megatron ordered. His bright silver frame tarnished gold and red with the colors of the setting sun.

"Area secure oh fearless leader," Starscream strutted closer to the crate. His chest armor silver welding scarred his front chest plates even as the unpainted nose cone betrayed recent repairs. "My plan is a success."

"Success is measured by final results. Results you have consistently failed to achieve," Megatron reminded. At his silver feet pads, Ravage growled, displaying large simulated teeth against his black jaw armor.

"I achieved this," his silver claws pointed at the crate.

"Better be careful Screamer," Rumble teased. "A big bad femme might be hiding in there. Add to your last love taps from Elita."

"Do not mention her name! You little!" he threatened, bringing both his weapons to bear on the smaller mech.

"Enough. Reveal the prisoner. I am anxious to confirm who we have," Megatron ordered. Thundercracker and Skywarp reached, tearing the sides from the wooden crate, revealing the orange and purple form of a stasis locked Huffer.

"Him? Nothing but complain, complain, complain. Doesn't know what being a team player is," Thundercracker said. He missed the knowing look the other two of his trine exchanged behind him.

"Confirm his stasis lock," Starscream shrilled, his vocals cracking at the last word as his system dropped a notch lower in self-repair.

Ravage crept closer, a red beam shooting out from both optics to cover the Autobot's chest plates. He raised his muzzle towards Megatron as the beam faded.

"So, perhaps your plan of securing a stasis Autobot for Soundwave to test his virus code is workable," Megatron pondered, red optics glaring at the captive.

"Perhaps? Here is your proof!" Starscream shrilled, both sets of clawed hands clicking as the tips scarped against each other, an outward sign of his agitation.

"Proof there exists one Autobot incapable of defeating you!"

"It's your plans leader that are incapable! This was my idea from the start! You never believed!" Starscream raged, chassis shaking. The gathered Decepticons swung their helms back and forth as the leader and the second in command continued arguing.

Further away, Prowl and Ironhide swung to look at each other before rising and moving stealthy forward. Prime sent the activation signal as Wheeljack followed close behind. Hound signaled his, Ratchet's and Jazz's approach from the opposite side.

Inside the ripped up crate, Huffer's blue optics unshuttered as his hand moved across his armor. Had the Decepticons considered him a true threat, their scanning would have noted his leg and hip armor was identical except for one piece. Fingers tapped out a number sequence on that small square, a flash of light throughout his entire shell the only warning. A single motion had him flipping to his feet pads and running.

"He's getting away! Grab him!" Starscream ordered.

Ravage crouched, gauging the distance before he leapt, only to pass through Huffer 's metal form and collide with Rumble. "Hey! Watch where owww!" the cassette warrior yelped as metal teeth closed around his arm. "Take this!" Unable to transform his arms into pile drivers, he smacked his helm against the top of Ravage's helm.

"Terminate him!" Megatron commanded. Laughing, the mini bot ran directly between Skywarp and Thundercracker. Both fired, the shots passing through him. Howling, both jets began hopping on damaged feet pads.

"Autobots fire!" rang out over their cries. Then the real explosions began.

Intent on ducking Ironhide's double cannon fire, Starscream's sensors concentrated on detecting Autobot weapons locks and not movement low to the ground. He fired back, missing Ironhide then blinking as the weapons went offline, power cells tapped out. Rumble and Ravage, still fighting each other, rolling towards him failed to trigger any warnings.

"Now they need recharging? Slagging Constructicons can't repair me worth a...!" He yelled, backing up. His footpad almost touched the ground when Rumble and Ravage collided, moving his raised leg forward to upset his balance. Prowl's blast near his faceplates made him recoil his upper body backward then gravity took over.

"Timber!" Prowl processed as the ground shook, systems calculating.

_78% probability Starscream's weapons remain offline. 100% Ravage and Rumble needing repair after flattened by seeker weight. Estimate time to rejoin fight .123 of a breem._

Megatron fired, reveling in the exploding metal and splash of fluids of his victim when his entire frame jarred forward with a slamming force. "Who dares?" he yelled, turning to rip the attacker apart only to be lifted up, compensators failing to adjust before slamming front down into the ground.

"I dare," Prime clamped his footpads down on Megatron's back neck plates. "This war is ours alone. Do not involve the humans again."

"This planet is not yours but the fleshlings. I will defeat humph," he sputtered as weight crushed his faceplates into the ground.

Prime's rifle ratcheted in warning before the muzzle tapped the back of his head plate. "Not today, not this time. You threaten me again and I will take you spark brother. You have cost us our world and I will not let you destroy this one or what I hold most dear."

Unseen, red optics narrowed behind their protective shutters. 'He never had the strength to defeat me. What drives him now? I will find out and destroy or take it from him. I will see his spark shatter upon my claws.' The pressure eased and the Decepticon leader rose slowly up, wiping the soil and grass from his faceplates.

Optimus stood nearby, his ion rifle charged and targeting Megatron's spark as the battle raged around them.

"You win, this time Prime," Megatron ground out. "Decepticons, retreat! Retreat!" With a roar of power, his leg thrusters sent him skyward, his silver form followed quickly by a wobbling Starscream and the other seekers, each holding a scratched up cassette mech.

"Shall we pursue?" Prowl asked.

"No, let them leave," Optimus ordered, his optics searching for each of his team. "Status?"

Ironhide leaned against Ratchet, the medic's fingers transmorphing into repair tools to seal the other's leaking side wound. "Haven't you learned to duck Megatron blasts yet?" the medic grumped.

"I did. That's why I'm still online," he mumbled.

"Online until Chromia sees your armor," Huffer said.

"Hah! Femme left worse marks than this after a round of," he mumbled weakly.

"Hey!" Optimus protested, his battle bask disengaging.

"Round of… hide and seek …with Annabelle...on the obstacle course," he trailed off as self-repair initiated a temporary shutdown.

"Score one for the Autobots!" Jazz cheered, kneeling to slap hands with Huffer. His blue visor flashed as his black armored hand passed through the mini bot's. Grinning, he moved his hand through at all directions. "I got me a ghost bot," he chuckled.

"When am I going to go solid? You said it was temporary Wheeljack," Huffer whined.

"Must be a malfunction. Easy fix, I need to disconnect the…uhm… hmmm," the inventor's sidebars flushed pink with embarrassment. His hand passed though the control unit and out into the air behind Huffer.

"I got plans tonight. And they do not include walking through stuff. It's movie night and I can't sit on the couch this way," Huffer complained.

"The battery will run out before then. I used a short cell," Wheeljack confirmed, subspacing a datapad and pulling up design schematics.

"How do I get back to the base?" Huffer asked the obvious.

"Drive?" Wheeljack suggested. "Hmm, not over water. You would sink even molecularly phased and that would be bad. Worse, solidify in the water. Let me work on it."

**Diego Garcia Island, NEST BASE**

**Main Autobot Hangar**

**Four Hours Post Battle.**

"Then I encased Huffer in a force field. I can modify the same field to restrain Pyxis on his recharge berth to keep him from falling out as he matures and upgrades his shell," Wheeljack finished explaining. The assembled Autobot's listened to the battle report attentively. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker stood nearby, guarding Elita and Pyxis.

Optimus watched as Prowl's wings twitched every time a NEST soldier neared them and made a note to talk personally with his second in command. 'I can't have him figuring probabilities of who might be a spark napper and what precautions are sufficient. Elita is liable to lose her temper and paint him purple. Worse, hand him over to the twins bound and gagged. Bad enough she let them out of the brig early with the pretense of guard duty. Hah! I know that devious processor of hers. First time they watch Pyxis spit up energon or clean his waste tanks and they will quit chasing sparks every time a new femme arrives. Experience better than lecture I could vocalize.'

"Bet a thousand credits Soundwave sends another message," Elita commented thoughtfully, every optic snapping to focus on her.

"Another message? What was the first?" Optimus glanced down at his spark mate, instinctively moving closer.

"After my encounter with the cassettes Soundwave sent me a message telling me to leave them alone," she said. Pyxis clicked, reaching for her fingers. She waved them above him, as his optics tracked them side to side.

"Soundwave sent?" Prowl echoed her, his wing doors straightening out with shock.

"All of three words. Megatron's was longer and rude."

"Megatron...sent..." The tall black and white mech began wobbling on his feet pads.

"Easy there Prowl. Ratchet is busy with repairs and doesn't need you logic glitching right now," Hound cautioned, reaching out and steady him with his green armored hands.

"You never mentioned that," Optimus baritone vocal was lower than normal.

"Missed that detail in my field report apparently. Look who is clicking, trying to sound like a big bot already. Isn't our sparkling precious? Going to grow up to be a good Prime or least a leader. Yes you are. And your parental mech is such a good mech isn't he? Here, you hold him while I check if his energon bottle is warm enough," she transferred the tiny protoform, smiling to herself as Optimus got distracted holding Pyxis.

"Only one thing left then," Jazz said, the barest trace of humor in his vocals.

"Writing reports?" Prowl offered, straightening to balance on his own feet pads.

"No, a party! To celebrate!" Jazz replied.

_To be continued..._


	21. Chapter 21 Party Time with Pyxis

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. Megatron does not know about Pyxis but wants answers to Prime's behavior. Prowl wants a more complete report and Starscream still needs repairs while Elita is almost back to normal. Now Elita will face Red Alert, deal with Sideswipe and try to raise a normal sparkling mech. But not yet. It's party time!

TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TRANSFORMERS

**NEST Base, Diego Garcia Island**

**Autobot Recreation Room**

Sounds of lively music filled the air of the recreation room as vocals of both mechs and femmes interwove with the sounds of moving gears and adjusting hydraulics. No humans attended, allowing them a private party.

The occasional loud vocal rose over the rest to be followed by sounds of metal on metal or an arguing vocal in return. The Transformers laughed or watched those discussing so animatedly, celebrating the recent victory and remembering better times together. High grade sat alongside regular energon cubes on the main table for each bot to choose. The heroes of the battle received less attention than the unofficial guest of honor seated in his specially made high chair.

"How's my little party mech?" Jazz said, leaning in close to the sparkling. His larger black and white frame overshadowed the chair.

"Functional and no more energon treats," Elita's tone was firm even as tiny arms reached outward. Fingers made a grasping motion as Jazz held his empty armored hand out. All five of Pyxis' digits wrapped partly around one of the bigger mech's white armored fingers.

"Ahh, not even one? He's so cute," the spy and saboteur pretended to pout. His blue visor retracted, showing dim blue optics. They spun in and out trying to focus as a second little hand joined the first to wrap around his finger.

"Every bot here and some humans have been giving 'one treat' to little cute shell there. I do not want him purging his tanks from overfilling. I could throttle Wheeljack for making those. A small square of weaker energon that won't fill a line gap in our tanks and he makes buckets of them," the rose colored femme complained.

::But he deserves kindness and love after recent events:: Bumblebee sent. He held a yellow armored fist full of treat chips. He shook his head side to side in a clear "no" in front of the sparkling as Pyxis released Jazz's finger and reached for the treats. Venting softly, the young scout opened a wrist hatch, dropping the treats inside for later as little blue optics watched.

"He's a sparkling. His memory core will not recall this past week a joor from now. First shell is basically a containment shape to teach them outside world experiences as their coding adjusts. His processor focuses on likes and dislikes. Like energon from Elita and dislike of bright lights. Likes being held and dislike being woke from recharge early," Ratchet stated. The yellow green medic sipped on his high grade, allowing the others to continue.

"Like cool bots," Jazz quipped, his blue visor snapping back into place.

"And dislike grumpy medics," Ironhide commented, walking up behind the group. His foot pads rested on the concrete floor, allowing his mass to move quietly.

"I wasn't talking to you," Ratchet's blue multi faceted optics narrowed. He straightened to his taller full height, turning to face the ancient mech.

"No, you're boring the one mech that can't escape you Ratch," he sipped at his high grade.

"Escape? I'll remember that next physical," the medic growled, his fingers transmorphing to injectors and armor removing tools.

"Can't wait to get your servos on me huh? You really need more time with Moonracer," the weapon's specialist quipped.

"I'll servo you! How about I remove your cannons and implant them up your," Ratchet began threatening.

"Stop!" A baritone vocal commanded. A familiar red and blue frame stepped between them before moving to stand alongside his femme. Optimus' helm swiveled back and forth before he tried looking stern. "Prowl, make a notation to discuss what constitutes an appropriate conversation around a sparkling at the next command staff meeting please."

"Is that necessary? How about I restrict those two from being spark sitters, at least at the same time?" He suggested, the barest hint of amusement to his vocal tones.

"Bee!" Elita warned, leaning out and around her sparkmate's larger chassis to glare at the mini bot.

::I couldn't resist:: he admitted, ducking his yellow helm as the sparkling sipped energon from the treat chip clutched firmly in both hands.

"Mini bots major problems," Elita grumbled, leaning back to rest against her taller sparkmate. Bumblebee pretended to scuff the floor with a footpad, hands tucked behind him before venting sadly and moving away from the still reaching sparkling.

"Speaking of mini bots, where is Huffer?" Optimus scanned the room, seeing no sign of the orange mini bot.

"The twins, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe borrowed him," Ratchet answered as his tools transformed back to fingers.

"What do you mean borrowed?" Ironhide asked.

Alongside him, Prowl stiffened as his tactician mainframe ran scenarios. Blue optics dimmed then brightened even as his black and white wing doors sagged down. "Prime, would you reconsider allowing exile as a punishment?"

"No Prowl, never again on earth," he chuckled, snagging out an armored arm and wrapping it around Elita's rose-colored hip plates. Both turned at clicking sounds.

Seeing them watching, Pyxis moved his tiny lip plates before bouncing up and down in his high chair. Leaning forward, he wiggled faster than they would have thought possible out of the safety strap. And kept wiggling upward.

"No!" Half a dozen vocals shouted as his tiny frame tipped forward over the protective bar. Bumblebee's yellow chassis scraped across the floor underneath, armored hands catching and cradling him. Vents and sighs of relief drowned out his soft excited clicks and whirrs.

Pyxis began tapping the wrist compartment of Bumblebee's hand, opening it. Energon chips fell out in a shower of blue squares except the one a tiny hand grasped and pulled to the equally tiny mouth.

"How did he?" Optimus' optics spun wide in disbelief.

"He is half yours," Elita commented, lifting their sparkling up and firmly removing the partially drained energon chip from his grasp.

"He didn't get that from my half. Deviousness in getting what you want is your trait femme. As Commander I carefully consider my actions and their ramifications," he teased. He nodded at Bumblebee, making a mental note to leave a bucket of the chip treats for him to find in his quarters as a personal reward for catching his son.

Pyxis fussed, arms and legs kicking but allowed himself to be tucked back into the high chair, the strap tightened by his mother.

"Right. That little bundle of leap first process later is definitely your offspring," Ratchet commented.

"From two of the most authoritative," Prowl continued

"Weapon carrying, battle trained," Ironhide added.

"Cybertron made bots around," Jazz finished.

"We're doomed!" They all chorused before breaking into laughter.

**NEST Base, Diego Garcia Island**

**Autobot Recreation Room**

**Hours Later**

"Ssshhh, party is over and it's time to go. The sparkling is recharging," Jazz whispered as his hand moved over the control pad, dimming the lights.

"I am not a sparkling," Prime rumbled softly from his chair, his optics unshuttering. His massive red and blue armored form reclined even as his hands remained cupped together over his son. Pyxis curled on his side in the warm darkness, one tiny hand clutching his yellow and black striped blanket.

"That's your opinion," Elita chimed in, opening one blue optic as she lay out on the nearby couch.

"Mine is the only one that counts as Prime," he teased.

"I'll remember that next time you need an armor repaint dearest. I'll pick the colors and you can give me your opinion after you're painted," her vocal tone carried a false sweetness.

"Any color but purple," he chuckled, forgetting and shifting with his mirth. His hands moved as he pointed a stubby finger at her. "And that's an order femme. Or back to the brig with you."

CLICK CLICK CLACK WHIRR

"Ah man, you woke Pyxis. What did he say?" Jazz asked.

"He wants to play and go for a walk what else?" Elita translated, sitting up and opening both optics.

"It's 3 am local time. Time to recharge not go for a walk," Optimus groaned, shifting to a fully upright sitting position.

"That's your opinion Prime," Elita and Jazz chorused together.

_To be continued..._


	22. Chapter 22 Logic glitches and beaches

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. Credit to ladyofdarkstar for the Grimlock suggestion and to fantasyaddict101 for beta work and suggestions too. I have been writing a lot but not posting. Working to post and update all my stories so please set _author alert_ or _story alert_ as needed.

TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TRANSFORMERS

**NEST BASE, DIEGO GARCIA ISLAND**

**AUTOBOT PRIVATE QUARTERS**

Bright blue power cores flared to life as the optics opened, the centers dialing in on the ceiling above. Its faint grey coloring registered as expected and familiar, allowing standard online protocols to activate.

Her systems identified the room's other occupants, standing down weapons and battle readiness coding. "Two mechs in my quarters at the same time, every femme's dream," Elita giggled, sitting up on the recharge berth without disturbing the massive warrior mech flanking her. His red and blue frame radiated his power and strength even in stillness.

Stretching her arms above her head, systems continued onlining as she slid off the bunk without trying to disguise the sound of her movement. Stealth would have triggered Optimus' external systems to a possible attack, normal movements registering as non-threatening. Two steps had her standing over their sparkling Pyxis, quietly recharging in his wall bunk, his energy signature clear and pure.

Her lip plates curved into a soft smile at the sight. His tiny form lay inside, soft baby blankets surrounding him like a cloth nest. 'Each blanket a gift, a reminder of the humans caring.' Uneasiness flashed across her system at the memory file of Pyxis gone, the human running with him. She banished the image with echoes of the party the night before, her fellow Autobots sneaking Pyxis countless energon treats. "I do not envy flushing his tanks tonight. And Optimus is not using the excuse his armored fingers are too big to grasp the hose fittings this time.'

Five minutes later Elita One, femme commander of the Autobot forces, stepped out into morning light. The human soldiers either waved a greeting or nodded in an unspoken acknowledgment, intent on their own duties. The bright tropical sun reflected off her rose colored armor as she strode towards the lagoon beach. The palm trees lining its edge rustling in the breeze as she took in her surroundings with wide-open sensors. Detecting and identifying each plant and lifework from the rock crab down to the smallest butterfly the femme marveled at the differences. 'On Cybertron we have mechs, femmes and our drones. Sizes based on function yet here life is limitlessly varied.' Her feet pads remained noiseless as she crossed back onto black top, the rough surface distinct from the sandy grains.

A flash of an energy signature had her walking towards the main base tarmac. The other Transformer paused, enough in her range to detect yet far enough to not disturb her. "Prowl," she identified, weapon locks downgrading standby.

Facing away, his black and white wing doors dipped down to acknowledge her presence as she neared him. "What caused that?" she blinked her optics rapidly at the sheer size of the crater.

"A Cybertronian implosive device of Decepticon origin."

"How many offlined?" Her vocal tone deepened, wanting to know and dreading the answer.

"Two humans. We believe they were in collusion and this the reward for their support," the mech said.

"Megatron's claws reach even here, twisting and destroying, keeping their families from burying them in the human custom," she murmured sadly.

Prowl remained quiet while his systems held in full battle readiness. Though single, he treasured femmes above all others of his race, especially Elita as the mate to the last existing Prime. He shied away from calculating a future without them in it. "Please avoid the edge," he warned when she moved closer to peer inside. "It is unstable and we wouldn't want you sliding down."

"Who would be that thick chipped?" she teased, stepping lightly away, footpads flexed against the uneven surface. "Hmm, surprised the twins haven't tried it for fun."

"I threatened them with having to fill it in using hand shovels if they did," Prowl admitted. His wing doors raised higher, a sign of his well-hidden sense of humor.

"Too bad we couldn't bury Starscream in it. He'd probably mistake it for a mud bath," Elita grumbled.

"It's not that he makes mistakes, it's that Starscream almost gets nothing right," Prowl countered, the logical tactician part of his personality responding.

"What is the difference?"

"A mistake in fact or error is doing the right thing the right way with wrong information. Earth's atmosphere is thicker than Cybertron's with more airborne obstacles including flying native life forms. A mistake is attempting soar and sucking an animal into his engine, not calculating for the indigenous wildlife. His not getting it right would be diving to attack a mini bot processing a lone target, like Bumblebee or Cliffjumper, and not scanning me, Ironhide and Prime standing in the tree line nearby."

"That processing warms my spark," she grinned. He moved away, no words needed as they left the crater behind. The two Cybertronian fell in step with each other, heading towards the main hangar. A comfortable silence existed between them, made over hundreds of years of friendship and shared command authority.

Her thin, curvy figure moved gracefully as his taller form moved steadily. His square footpads shaped into perpendicular angled metal plating to his leg plating up to his smaller midriff before expanding to his larger rounded front. Unlike other mechs, the front end of his alt mode remained solid, folding into position with little separation, giving him an oversize upper body appearance. His wing doors flared to the sides, doubling the distance he needed to maneuver in compared to the femme walking alongside.

They identified Red Alert's energy signature before he appeared, his stance tight and stiff. "What does he want?" Elita murmured, her optics narrowing.

"I believe he wants to keep his parts in working order. He has orders to explain his actions," Prowl answered.

"You mean Optimus threatened to kick his aft into orbit if he didn't apologize for engaging in a trans fluid spewing fight, which I won," she stated.

Prowl's fans nearly choked in his air intakes at her crude wording. He mumbled about needing to check reports before striding towards the main hangar. Elita grinned at his sudden departure. 'One mech chased off, one to go. Let's see how quickly I can tear junior here down before I go back to enjoying the morning.'

Facing the ocean again, the femme regarded the red and white armored mech blocking her view. His frame type mirrored Prowl's down to two color armor paint and wing doors. 'I wonder if not breathing air is an asset for our race. Bad he does not need to breathe between apologies, bad he would not drown if I threw him in the water but good I do not have to worry about his breath odor. Apparently a major concern among human males when preparing to talk to a human female.'

Her protocols surged, no warning flashing their heightened status as an after effect of the bot napping and her recent spark carrying, nor did a reminder appear from Ratchet to slowly assume her normal duties while wary of unusual responses. That medical warning remained keyed to her battle core activating in full. Elita should have realized her intent, emotional more than logically motivated, but failed to.

Red Alert reached the end of his apology and she politely thanked him then pretended to innocently ask, "Why are you out here this morning? Most mechs are still in recharge. Though I admit this lookout has a clear view of the lagoon."

"Shark patrol. A daily ritual. Water rescue drills are scheduled for later and our advanced sensors allow us to detect if the sharks feeding patterns are coming too close to shore for the safety of the humans," he replied, straightening to his full height, his white and red wing doors flaring to the sides.

"Ahh, very thorough of you, though I fear those vending machines worse," she started without any betraying emotion.

"Vending machines?" he echoed then his expression appeared to brighten. "Ah, the soda dispensing machine and game box drones the Allspark created in Mission City. They were taken down suitably by our forces following the battle."

"No, I meant the vending machines in the lunch room, inside the human quarters and all over base. Apparently, the humans suffer a slight mental aberration when they are hungry and the food does not dispense. An otherwise controlled individual will attempt to rock and tilt a device larger and far heavier than they while pressed against its glass front. At least thirteen humans a year die that way, crushed beneath one. And toasters," she dramatically placed an armored hand on the metal plating above her spark. "They are positively deadly."

"Throw in the water and get electrocuted?" He guessed his blue optics dimming as he rapidly researched vending machines. His wing doors lowered as he focused on internals. "There are no power outlets in this area. It's the lagoon beach."

"Electrocution yes but not here, in their kitchens and snack areas. Two hundred forty three humans a year die from toasters, some from resulting fires of unattended units but most from electrocution. Apparently, the bread gets jammed and they use the knife in their hand, waiting to spread the jam or butter with, and try to pry the stuck bread out. Then zap! Electrocution."

"That many? Really? You're not exaggerating?" He murmured faintly, his light blue optics growing dimmer as he poured through digital databases.

"Am I?" she smiled, her audios detecting the high revving of his cooling fans. "I know a safety mech such as yourself monitors this base carefully and if you are monitoring for sharks which only kill eight or nine humans a year worldwide I'm sure you have the far deadlier causes like vending machines and toasters handled."

His lip plates moved without sound as the retrieved online data confirmed her statements. Elita blinked, hearing the faintest popping noise deep inside his workings. No smoke issued from his helm, nor did he fall over but she knew.

"Oops, my bad, he's logic locked." The femme considered using the comm to rouse Ratchet then decided against it. "He and Moonracer left the party together. They rarely get personal time and I am not disturbing them. Red Alert should be fine on the beach until later. No, that is not responsible. I better tell Prowl." Venting lightly, she began walking towards the hangar that held the Autobot's official offices.

**AUTOBOT ADMINISTRATIVE HANGER**

**PROWL'S OFFICE**

Prowl rose to his feet pads to greet her in the old ways of their race. Since she was not his direct commanding officer, he refrained from saluting, instead honoring her as a femme. He stepped partly away from his desk, half-bowing on his waist plates. "I was unaware of a scheduled appointment. Is this a continuation of our earlier discussion?"

"Earlier as in a giant crater larger than Wheeljack's last explosion or earlier from last night about banning certain mechs from being sparkling sitters on the same shift?" she teased, half twirling on her feet pads.

He hesitated, unable to recognize her tone or impish mannerisms. Sitting back down, he closed the report datapad, sliding it to the side. "I have banned the entire base from pranks and that lasted nine breems. With regards to your sparkling, I welcome the changes Pyxis creates without restriction."

"Really? Why?" Genuine surprise reflected across her faceplates.

"A sparkling is a rare, unexpected but consequential event that cannot be predicted because we view the war as a structured, ordinary and compressible existence. We plan attacks, build defenses, train for battle and stay alert. We think of ourselves as warriors. Wheeljack is a civilian scientist not an inventor, Optimus our last Prime and Bumblebee our youngest fighter and scout. The Decepticons are our enemies, our world a blasted ruin and still we exist for one purpose," he began.

"Two sides of warriors fighting until the last one offlines or the war ends," Elita noted solemnly.

"Families are not part of that equation any more, until now," Prowl formally stated.

"It's time they were," she stated then got a gleam in her optics. "We need to let things happen as well as plan them out. Actually my femmes have discussed bearing sparklings with mates and even fostering them out."

"Fostering?" his white optic arch rose higher.

"Prime and I spark say, a dozen. We raise the first four or five then foster the others to appropriate parental units. Would a mech or femme sparkling suit you best? I am guessing a femme. You teach her manners and let Ironhide teach her defensive skills?"

"Me? Foster a sparkling?" He squeaked, before regaining control of his vocalizer.

"Oh! Do you have a femme you want to spark with?"

"NO! My work comes first and last. Femmes want a mate not piles of datapads and endless reports," he sputtered, gesturing at his desk. "You understand, you're a femme commander."

"I do but I cannot, mated to Prime and all. My spark call forbids a direct merge with another mech. However, perhaps we should check with Ratchet for artificially enhancing a merge? A sparkling femme with my chassis pattern and your logical processing abilities? How do those odds calculate? I bet we could do better than Optimus and I, right Prowl. Prowl?" She teased, watching his optics spin wide as his cooling fans whirred noticeably.

She raised to her feet pads, walking around the desk to stand alongside him. She patted his hand, her rose-colored armor vivid against his white armor. "Relax, I'm only kidding. I was not serious about merging or even trying. Prowl? You there?" She frowned, waving her hand in front of his big blue optics. They never changed. She scanned him, hearing the sound of faint clicking slowing then silence as his gears stalled and his energy signature dampened.

::Ratchet, can you come to Prowl's office? His logic glitch tripped again:: Elita paged over the medical frequency. She kept from mentioning Red Alert's glitch sent her to talk to Prowl in the first place.

::Who and what happened now to down him? I swear if it's those dratted twins I am welding their afts to a garbage truck this time, front bumper. I need to recharge not be repairing their handiwork:: Ratchet answered, grumbling.

::I triggered it while discussing sparklings:: Elita answered, stepping back from the unmoving white security bot.

::Why would that trip his logic glitch?:: Ratchet puzzled.

:: I uhm…specifically that is…mentioned you helping us, Prowl and I:: Elita sent, tracking his medical signal. Directional trackers located him rolling between the buildings.

::Help you how? Security issues are his department not mine. Sparkling frames are too tiny to add a tracker or sensors into:: Ratchet

::No, to help us medically spark merge. Create a sparkling of ours, Prowl and mine for him to raise:: Elita admitted sheepishly. Her audios detected the outside sounds of screeching tires, a ground shaking roar then a deep thudding impact crash. ::I was teasing him about it and he froze up. Ratchet? You there?:: She braced as heavy treads thudded past the outer wall, the vibrations rattling the floor.

::Emergency crews to my lab! Ratchet is down, uh, actually he is up in my wall. :: Wheeljack

::What experiment were you messing with this time?:: Ironhide

::None. I was drinking my energon and crash crunch his yellow green alt mode explodes through my upper left wall! Flew across my lab and wedged halfway up in my right wall!:: Wheeljack

::Status:: Optimus commanded, his tone sounding as if he had just pulled out of recharge.

::Dazed and stuck in transform, muttering:: Wheeljack

::You or Ratchet?:: Sideswipe

::Ironhide, recover Ratchet. Red Alert relay the footage of the incident. Prowl, report:: Optimus

Elita winced, knowing two of the officers were unable to answer. "Optimus will use his Prime link to verify they are online then pull their status markers and…" The base alarms sounded.

::Code red! Unknown attack, officers down. Mobilize for possible Decepticon incursion:: Optimus ordered, switching to battle mode and full Prime command authority in an astro second. The general Autobot frequency rang with his determination and anger. Starscream attacking openly for revenge he understood, the idea of another sneak attack on his own home base he took personal.

::Easy big bot, I need you to assimilate this first:: Elita sent on their private frequency, adding a data burst packet of the morning events. She counted the astro seconds, waiting for a response. The general Autobot frequency beeped again.

::Autobots stand down. Rescue teams escort Red Alert from the lagoon beach east side and Prowl from his office to med bay. First Aid is acting medical until he clears Ratchet to resume his duties. And some bot find out why Grimlock is hopping around on one foot pad by the spare hangar. Elita, meet me at my office:: Prime

She winced at his tone, hearing the exasperation in it. "Good going femme. You return, give him an heir then spill the energon royally. What are you going to do for an encore? Set fire to his office? Maybe I should ask the twins how they always escape off base?"

Her sensors confirmed the office was empty as she approached it. No blazing energy signature of their last Prime radiated from it, no sounds of his heavy tread or the clicking of datapads in use. She entered and sat on the chair in front of his desk then decided against it. "I am not sitting here like an errant sparkling before a parental unit. I am a full grown femme and he can deal with it." Grinning mischievously, she sat her petite armored aft directly on the edge of his command desk.

The outer door opened, the massive red and blue armored figure framed in its doorway. "Dearest," Optimus vented deeply. "Are you trying to glitch all my command staff?"

"Not my fault their processors are unstable and two officers are hardly all," she said, giggling despite herself. His spark called to hers even as his lip plates twitched into a smile he could not hide. Three steps and his long armored legs carried him to her side.

He chuckled, wrapping his massive armored arms around her smaller frame. "I wish I could have seen their faceplates when you told them."

"You knew I wasn't serious. Why couldn't they?" She mumbled, pressing against his chest plates.

"I know you. Your desire is only for me, not my officers. And if you wanted them busy to leave us alone there are easier ways."

"Speaking of alone, where is Pyxis?"

"Jazz and Bumblebee guard. The astro second the base alarms triggered they nearly collided with each other trying to get into our quarters to protect Pyxis. Apparently they locked onto his frequency and set alerts keyed to the alarms."

"You make that sound like a bad thing," she teased, wiggling her fingers into the gap in his simulated chest panels. He writhed, feeling his systems revving as she hit a sensor node. An armored hand folded over hers, pulling her hand back.

"Case in point," he rumbled. "I am not sharing your company and have them overriding our door locks, running in weapons engaged and seeing us together."

"Weapons guidance override optics alone and we install a secondary lock, problem solved," she said, relaxing into his grip. He started to reply when a priority comm signal sounded.

::First Aid to Prime. Grimlock says Ratchet crashed into him. He reacted and threw Ratchet's alt mode through the air, after he crunched the Dinobot's footpad, landing in Wheeljack's lab. Ratchet landed that is. Ironhide is with Major Lennox explaining the situation and asked I relay while Hoist frees Ratchet from the wall. His injuries appear non-spark threatening: First Aid reported.

::Understood:: Optimus answered, letting Elita hear the echo of the frequency.

::I don't understand. Why would Ratchet drive into him?:: First Aid

::He was distracted. Keep me updated:: Optimus ordered then closed the comm line.

She giggled, pulling out his strong embrace. "Poor Grimlock. Walking along and wham, medic hits him."

"Even better," he grinned down at his mate. "You are going to mediate between them."

"Me?"

"You caused it, you fix it. That's an order femme," he smirked.

"Ordering for personal gain is an abuse of your power Prime," she growled back at him. "If any bot else ordered that they would have your old rifle aimed between his or her optics."

"I'm not any bot and I would order any under my command the same. I trust your judgment or I would not have given you my old ion rifle. And Elita," he paused going out the doorway, "I'd start with Grimlock first. Ratchet is less likely to throw wrenches with a Dinobot leaning over your shoulder plates."

_To be continued..._


	23. Chapter 23 Claws, partying and paint

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. Sorry for the delay in posts, too many fics at the same time competing with real life duties. If you want more fun, please feel free to read my other Transformer fics. They are listed under my profile. Some complete, others in progress but review as you want. And again, please do not eat or drink while reading. Thank you from the medical staff.

Review: Elita's coding is still adjusting from spark carrying. She logic glitched Prowl and Red Alert before shocking Ratchet and sending the base to full alert. Optimus ordered her to make it right between Ratchet and Grimlock. Grimlock is his G1 T-Rex dinosaur version alt mode.

TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TRANSFORMERS

**DIEGO GARCIA ISLAND**

**LAGOON BEACH**

Elita tilted her head, the motion unnecessary as her optics narrowed in on the enormous red and gold metal shape sticking out behind the cluster of palm trees. Short stubby hands covered their owner's optics, both tightly closed as if he couldn't see, neither could any bot see him. His metal tail wrapped all the way to the tip of his muzzle as he tried to curl into a ball. As much as a gigantic metal Dinosaur could.

"Grimlock? Grimlock? Where is he?" She chirped, slowly spinning on her feet pads in a circle to play along. His bi pedal mode hard to hide, his current Tyrannosaurs Rex mode impossible. The multi color armor shined in the tropical sunlight as she moved closer. "Where oh where is my Dinobot?"

"Here," he answered waving an armored hand and opening his optics. Pouting at having given himself away so quickly, he vented deeply before uncurling and rising to his feet, chassis barely fitting between the palm trees. The long metal tail unwrapped, curving upward to balance. His body mass sinking his clawed feet into the soft tropical sand but not enough to hide the set of black tire treads up and over them. Nor the green and white paint scrape above that.

"There's my big mech," she reached up, pounding on his jaw armor with a closed fist. Any other Transformer would have had dents, his sensors registering it as a soft pat. Taller and broader than Optimus, he towered over her yet triggered her maternal instincts with his sad expression. "What's wrong?"

"Medic pick on me. Mean," Grimlock growled, his low rumble matching a jet engine on takeoff.

"He didn't mean to run over your feet," she began before he moved abruptly backwards.

"Me Grimlock throw! No other Autobot drive over my claws!" He wiggled them, leaving deep grooves in the sand below.

"And he won't again. I'm sure of that," Elita smiled, making a processor note to retrieve the security footage from the base cameras and Wheeljack's lab later.

"Him no like me," Grimlock groused, lowering his square muzzle towards her.

"He likes you. He was...distracted. Only Autobot with an emergency vehicle alt mode that needs a wrecker to pull him out of accidents. Ratchet didn't mean to hit you and you threw him into a building. That wasn't the right thing to do," she reminded gently.

The Dinobot considered, then opened his jaw in a toothy grin. "Me throw in Lagoon?"

"No, not the lagoon. No throw," Elita corrected.

"How me Grimlock handle? What you do mad at medic?"

Elita hesitated, considering her words. The wrong choice and his response would be 'me Grimlock stomp.' Like all Dinobots, he carried programming down to his spark to protect femmes and sparklings. A good idea not fully processed out. The Autobots assumed Decepticon attacks never guessing the Dinobots limited intelligence would classify a raised voice and angry attitude from a fellow Autobot as a threat. As several of them had painfully learned. And lying was never an Autobot choice nor telling Grimlock to simply ignore the medic until Grimlock's simple processors forgot the incident. Anything from a part failure to surprise attack could happen and the Dinobot leader would need Ratchet's medical repairs.

"I tell him I'm mad and why. He shouts and I shout. He throws a wrench and I either duck it or catch and throw it back. But no throwing him. Understand? We do not throw mechs smaller than us," the rose colored femme said.

"Most mechs smaller. Him grumpy, him no like Grimlock," he continued, waving his stubby hands.

"He cares, even if he doesn't show it. He and Wheeljack took a lot of time and effort to make you. I'm glad they did. I like you," she said.

"Me like femme," the dinosaur shaped mech moved forward in tiny steps, bending down. Standing on her forward toe plating, Elita wrapped both arms around the larger frame to hug him, barely reaching a quarter of the way around his girth.

"Shall I tell Optimus he's been replaced by bigger?" Chromia's wisecracking vocal sounded from behind them on the path.

The rose-colored femme pretended to consider her question without turning around as she released the Dinobot. "Hmm, Ultra Magnus is my nearest clan relative and I've known him longer than Optimus, definitely not an option. Silverbolt isn't too bad though his baggage has limits."

"Describing his cargo hold size or?" The warrior femme smirked sight unseen behind her.

"Baggage as the four gestalt teammates designated Aerialbots," Elita replied neutrally. Grimlock growled, feeling the angry change in her energy aura despite her words.

"Still upset about last month's prank Air Raid pulled?" Flareup's vocal sounded from Chromia's direction.

"Do you blame her? Anyone missing with my helm fin points would be offline, not in the brig," Moonracer added, joining the energy signatures flaring across Elita's systems. Turning, she confirmed four femmes standing there, Chromia, Moonracer, Flareup, and Arcee.

"And?"

"This is an intervention," Flareup announced, her orange and red armor the most vivid.

"Cheytac?" Moonracer brightened, her optics practically glowing.

"No, not a long sniper gun named Cheytac Intervention," Arcee vented, rolling her optics at the sharpshooting femme standing alongside.

"Intervention as in attempting to compel a femme to get out and be wild," Chromia said.

"Compel? What happened to asking?" Elita tapped a triangular footpad on the sand.

"Since Pyxis went into his shell you haven't come out of yours. This is the first time you've left your quarters or med bay," Chromia said.

"Humans grabbed him! My sparkling!" Elita snapped, lowering her volume as Grimlock moved right behind her, his shadow covering her as his jaw rested above her helm. His growl rumbled through her, vibrating like a minor earthquake.

"Bumblebee and Jazz are guarding him, he has a tracker as does all his toys and Starscream is not stupid enough to show his nosecone around here again," Moonracer stated.

"Actually, his nosecone is hanging on the recreation room wall alongside a large metal hook," Arcee laughed.

"I cannot leave. What if Pyxis needs me?" Elita waved her arms all directions, her vocal tone only half hearted.

"Optimus was there to spark him; he can cover for a few hours human time. We will be back in time to tuck him in," Chromia reassured.

"Him being Optimus or Pyxis?" Flareup cracked.

"Who would you pick?"

"Hmm, tough one. The cute one or smexi? Probably the one that needs the least amount of work," the femme grinned.

"A few hours?" Elita considered.

"Long enough for time to ourselves, raid a high grade cache I know of and be back safe. What could happen?" Chromia asked.

"Me Grimlock want to come."

The femmes exchanged glances then shrugged or smiled. "Sounds like a plan."

The NEST field attendant never hesitated when his orders updated, use to unexpected changes. Missions did not schedule ahead of time with orders in triplicate. They came screaming across the board, high priority at the worse times. Current orders were immediate departure, tagged normal status and easy to accommodate.

The pilot sighed, running a quick check on fuel to compensate for the extra weight before signaling his okay. Then six transformers walked or in Grimlock's case, crouched and slid in on his side into the Galaxy class plane, flying for the mainland.

**AUTOBOT PERSONAL QUARTERS**

**OPTIMUS AND ELITA'S ROOMS**

::What are you doing?:: Bumblebee glanced up at the other mech at the metal plunk sound. His arm cannon hummed, the rolling charge easing back as he overrode the firing command. The cannon braces flattening down as his helm vent flaps settled. The small cube of metal white armor paint sat on the table, an astro second past from being blasted.

"Jumpy bug bot? Prime won't like holes in the walls," Jazz teased. Inside their leader's quarters, both took protecting the youngest life seriously. Bumblebee ready for a fight or flee while Jazz linked into the security systems, ready to detect any movement near the building let alone the quarters they waited in. As a spy he hated surprises but loved giving them.

::Warning shot. Encourage a human to leave: Bumblebee sent over their comm, his vocalizer cracking already upsetting Pyxis once.

"Encourage them to change their shorts. Me, I need minor repair work. Don't want Ratchet hauling me into med bay for this. Bang out the dent, hide with new paint and replace later." The four-tong pinchers that made up his hands grasping his damaged outer leg armor, detaching all five locks. The support strut below marred by a long gash. Bumblebee whistled in appreciation, bending down closer to see it.

Pyxis reached up, little blue optics wide as the sparkling watched the removed metal like a shiny new toy. Little hands tried grasping as it swung side to side above him. "SNACK Daddy SNIKT."

Two sets of blue optics dropped in disbelief to the sparkling sitting between them. "Did he just?" Jazz asked.

"Daddy CLICK CLICK SNIKT." Triumphantly little fingers grasped the metal edge, holding on tight.

"He did! You can talk! I knew you were a smart bot," Jazz cheered, releasing the part into his grasp even though it was as big as him.

:: Saying 'Daddy' is not talking:: Bumblebee corrected. The scout, being the youngest barely remembered his difficulties in learning to talk like a big bot and not click.

"Huh! Prime will not care. How about mommy? Can you say mommy or Elita?" Jazz encouraged, bending down closer. His claws waved in front of the sparkling as though drawing the words out of him.

"Daddy CLUNK CLACK."

::That's a no. If he is learning human words, we better be careful what we say:: Bumblebee warned, missing Pyxis using the metal piece like a ramp to climb up to the corner table.

"Me?" Jazz pretended to be stabbed before rising back to his feet pads. His battle visor flared brighter as he considered then dismissed the warning. "Yeah right. It's cool Bee bot."

::You called Sam and Mikeala 'little bitches' when first meeting them. Remember Annabelle learning to swear from Ironhide in two languages? Prowl spent half a joor making new rules. As Optimus and Elita's sparkling, he may be our next Prime. We need to teach him responsibility not where the brig is:: Bumblebee sent.

"Hey!" Jazz shouted, diving forward with his claws. Two sets of adult optics widened as Pyxis dropped the paint cube, clicking as though explaining the liquid goo on his dark protoform.

::One astro second and he grabs it:: Bumblebee groaned, the sound transmitting as a mournful warble while running towards the wash racks, grabbing cleanser cloths for the floor.

"Clean this mess and hide the evidence," Jazz suggested, sub spacing the paint cube back before raising up a dripping wet monochrome sparkling.

::Prime is going to slag us!:: Bumblebee groaned, seeing the white spots on Pyxis. Both mechs knelt, trying to wipe the sparkling, the table and mop up the drips off the floor.

"We hope! Better than Elita. Into the wash racks and scouring fluid for you kiddo," Jazz grinned.

"No!" Bumblebee protested, grabbing Jazz's armored arm plate. ::He's a sparkling. Scouring fluid is on the avoid list for his protoform per Ratchet. No armor yet and we better ask him what to do. He is the expert::

"But what will Ratchet say?" Jazz's wiping at the white paint but smearing it worse across the other's dark metal.

::You mean throw. We either face wrenches, Prime's energy swords or Elita carrying Prime's old ion rifle:: the yellow armored scout offered.

"Med bay it is then. Only choice that won't leave char marks. And I got a feeling, my leg dent is about to find a lot more friends," Jazz quipped.

**MAIN AUTOBOT HANGER  
MAJOR LENNOX'S OFFICE**

**TWO HOURS LATER**

"What do you mean missing?" The Major's angry voice echoed out his open office door, the soldiers in the main hangar dutifully ignoring the outburst. Only the battle klaxon or a Transformer yelling got them moving, and that was out of the way.

"Every vending machine is missing. And no, it wasn't the twins pulling a prank or Ratchet forcing healthy eating this time. Already checked," Epps quickly explained, handing over the security logs.

"This can't be right. One minute they are there, the next minute someone goes to eat and they are gone? What did the security cameras show? I don't see any photos of the suspects." Will's blue eyes skimmed the few papers rapidly before he sat the clipboard down on his desk, atop the pile of papers already there.

"Nothing. We don't have them inside the lunchrooms, only on the human size doors in or out of the buildings. Not the loading docks or the Autobot size doors though they require a digital pass key to access. Nothing there either. We are set for an external base attack, not inside personnel capable of moving a machine of that size and weight. And that's not all. All the toasters are gone too."

"They took the electrical cookery?" He blinked, pouring a cup of coffee from his office pot.

"No, only toasters. The microwaves, blenders, mixers and coffee pots are all still there."

"Wheeljack experiment?" Will guessed, wondering what excuse to use to the budget committee this time for replacements.

"Negative. Inventor has been in his lab three days straight. Right now, he's patching a hummer shaped hole in his wall," Epps shook his head.

"Okay, so he's not the thief. Do I want to know what Wheeljack is working on?"

"Not sure but I've been getting reports of flowers falling here and there out of the sky," Epps joked, pointing up towards the ceiling of the office.

"Not that teleportation device again," Will groaned, hiding his face in his hands.

"Nope. These are still from the last test months ago. I'll alert the MP's to check every flight and ship cargo loader off base. And check the spare warehouse areas. Anything else sir?" He saluted formally, turning precisely on one heel while grinning.

"Contact Red Alert and Prowl to have them assist once they are back on duty. And notify me if anything else goes missing. And if it does, add my sanity to the list please?" Will asked.

**MEDICAL BAY**

**FOUR HOURS LATER**

"One fixed, two to go, not counting myself," Ratchet muttered, digitally filing his report in the database. Red Alert's release hours earlier and strict orders for light duty disappeared into lines of code on the main console. Normally the report would have been completed in his office, patients requiring his attention kept him in the repair bay, balancing a datapad on an unused medical berth. His own injuries minor and self-repairing but still aching across the neuron sensors. Especially the claw marks down both sides of his paneling.

"Prowl should pull out of stasis soon. Verify his stability and self-repair then dismiss back to his quarters," Ratchet muttered, tempted to set a recharge timer and rest himself.

The faintest sounds of clicking in the room had him lowering the datapad, enhanced optics scanning the portable recharge chamber. "Idiots. Should weld them to the wash racks. Jazz for sneaking repairs and Bumblebee for not calling me immediately. Quick dry paint and they walk the sparkling to med bay. Be another half an joor before it solidifies enough to remove off his protoform without damage." His glance darted to the med bay doors, as though fearing Elita or Optimus storming in any astro second.

::All officers report to the main landing strip:: Prime's signal richocheted across the command comm like a bullet.

Ratchet vented deeply, grabbing at the datapad he nearly knocked off jumping up. 'Easy medic. It's an all call, not an aft chewing.' Remotely the contact alarms onlined in response to his digital commands, locking down the bay the moment he left.

::Rolling now:: Ratchet sent, transforming down into his emergency vehicle mode. While running across base would be faster, humans had a tendency to panic when medics ran anywhere. The double doors slid close, locks engaging as blue optics opened, flaring to life. One set large and deepening in color as consciousness returned, the other optics tiny and curious.

Onlining slowly, Prowl stared at the ceiling above him, unable to remember where or what he was doing. The hard flat surface underneath provided no clues nor the plain ceiling above. Turning his helm to the side, a long row of white cabinets focused into view. Internal locators activated, identifying planet earth, western hemisphere, Diego Garcia Island, Nest Base, Autobot med bay. 'No attack or I'd have company,' he realized. Both armored hands moved to his helm, tracing the rounded smooth shape from the back to the raised red chevron on the front.

"Processed it caved in from the way my neurons ache," he muttered. Sitting up, the room wobbled as optics closed, chassis slouching forward. "Activating last memory core, firewalls and safeties engaged."

_"Me? Foster a sparkling?" He squeaked, before regaining control of his vocalizer. The white walls of his office edged his vision, the armored femme standing at his desk edge commanding his complete attention._

_"Oh! Do you have a femme you want to spark with?" Elita asked._

_"NO! My work comes first and last. Femmes want a mate not piles of datapads and endless reports," he sputtered, gesturing at his desk. "You understand, you're a femme commander."_

_"I do but I cannot, mated to Prime and all. My spark call forbids a direct merge with another mech. However, perhaps we should check with Ratchet for artificially enhancing a merge? A sparkling femme with my chassis pattern and your logical processing abilities? How do those odds calculate? I bet we could do better than Optimus and I, right Prowl?"_

He grimaced, recognizing the aftereffects of a processor crash. "It is illogical for me to believe she was serious. She would have asked Ratchet first then mentioned it to Prime. And selected another mech. Not me." Pausing, he considered for an astro second the possibility of a sparkling, the tiny new life held in his arms from his own spark.

Clicking had him turning slowly to the side. Prowl froze as the impossible scene registered. On the medical berth next to his, a portable recharging chamber sat. Inside was a sparkling. A black and white sparkling. The tiny life form's energy signature bore an imprint of Elita's dominant energy pattern. The parental mech's was too faint to recognize.

"You...you're...?"

"Daddy," Pyxis cooed, reaching one tiny hand over the rail.

"ARRRRGGGHHHH!"

Pyxis tried covering his tiny audios as the high-pitched scream sounded then clapped when it stopped. He recognized fall and play offline from the other mechs. He liked playing and this new bot was funny. Giggling, the little mech tugged on his blanket waiting for Prowl's optics to open again.

**MAIN LANDING STRIP RUNWAY**

**LOADING / OFFLOADING AREA**

"They went to the mainland to have a good time," Lennox said, glancing around at the gathered Autobots towering over Epps and himself. Optimus, Ironhide, Ratchet, Hound and Jazz stood there.

"Every femme is in an impound yard or holding area. Moreover, they lost Grimlock! How the slag do you lose a mech his size?" Ironhide raved, reading the report directly from the mainframe.

"Apparently, they had a very good time!" Epps chuckled then coughed, hiding his amusement under the sound as two spinning war cannons pointed his direction.

"The local authorities separated the femmes because they crossed multiple jurisdictions, none military. "

"They didn't?" Ratchet began, fearing their existence just went public.

"No, the fact they are autonomous alien life forms remains a secret. Reports list their alt modes without indications of transform. There are numerous alerts for their holographic drivers however, all fitting the same description," Will stated.

"Trouble has a face?" Ironhide muttered as Will began reading.

"Athletic female, 173 centimeters, approximately 50 kilograms. Coal black shoulder length hair in a pattern of soft curls. Full-length evening dress with pink bow tie on one shoulder, other shoulder bare skin. Open front neckline, though the size of the cleavage varies," he smirked then continued more seriously at the mech's growls. "Dress has open back with long pink sashes. No footprints indicating shoe type."

"Elita's hologram the night we reunited at the fundraiser," Optimus realized, glancing over at Ratchet.

"Other details vary," Will said.

"As in?" Hound asked, making a note to add that image to his hologram collection. The green armored scout had to credit their ingenuity in using the same hologram to confuse the humans.

"One femme, the most aggressive by reports, had tattoos running down both arms and a metal spiked dog collar on her neck," Will read.

"Chromia," Ironhide covered his optics with his hand, amused.

"Two drivers wove in and out of their pursuit before jumping their cars over nearby structures. The authorities assumed twin human drivers, a hidden ramp and nitrous boosts," the Major continued.

"Flareup and Arcee, my dancing ladies," Jazz crowed.

"They pull the same maneuver on the obstacle course. Spend half a breem pulling earth and debris out of their undercarriages from those landings when repairing them," Ratchet grumbled. The green and white armored mech moved slowly, needing to rest and refuel while determined to be available to those who might need repair. Even from his wrench dents.

"More impressive is the mayhem they caused," Epps noted, leaning over Will's shoulder to read.

"What mayhem?" Optimus asked.

Wordlessly Will held up the report, knowing the Transformers could scan it down to the molecular level let alone through multiple pages.

"They were gone for a few hours! Decepticon saboteurs don't leave that trail of destruction!" Optimus exclaimed. His red and blue armored frame twitched, revealing the complexity of his emotions over Elita.

"No one died or was even seriously injured. A few wrecked cars, only one building collapsed, abandoned and slated for destruction. The rest is repairable or replaceable. They had a good time all right," Epps noted.

"One police department confiscated a cube of unknown substance, apparently ejected from one of them going too fast around a corner. Purple acidy liquid with a metallic tang. Stored in the bio hazard area pending further analysis."

"High grade from the description. Energon would appear blue or multi colored to human eyes," Ratchet recognized.

"Where did they get enough high grade for five femmes and a Dinobot?" Hound puzzled.

"The emergency stash," Ironhide realized, his engine revving.

"What emergency stash? I don't recall that being approved," Optimus noted, already guessing the explanation as Ratchet rolled his optics at Hound and Jazz snickering.

"Not approved, wanted it. When 'Mia and I want get away and enjoy quiet time. Never figured she'd raid the whole thing and pass it around like a morning refill," Ironhide rumbled.

_To be continued...  
_


	24. Chapter 24 Impound yards and Grimlock

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. This chapter went through several rewrites and adjustments before being posted. Next chapter is half written with more detailing on Arcee and Flareup dealing with Jazz and Bumblebee. And how Prowl reacts to Pyxis after waking again. For now, finding Grimlock and locating the femmes. Thanks to botosphere for her suggestion of different mechs retrieving each femme. Credit to ladyofdarkstar for the idea of the T-Rex. Diego Garcia island is close to India though geography is not my forte. Onward to finding and wishing you hadn't.

**India Continent**

**The Bummerville Township**

For once Hound felt conspicuous in his alt mode. In the Unites States, his army jeep shape drew smiles and salutes from military personnel when they realized he was an Autobot scout. Now, rolling down the roads in India he drew looks from locals long use to seeing British jeeps or their police on bicycles or in small passenger cars. He agreed with Optimus' decision to split them into teams, each to retrieve one of the femmes. Until realizing his assignment meant tracking Grimlock by himself with only Epps to help. His one protest cut off as Optimus transformed down to race off, concerned with finding his sparkmate. 'If I get stares, wonder what his red and blue flames do,' Hound processed internally, his attention split between monitoring the steady energon reading, driving and anticipating possible Decepticon attack.

"Are you sure Grimlock went this direction? Nothing but a small coastal town with a winding road to nowhere," Master Sergeant Epps glared at his smart phone as though wishing the online map would provide the answer he wanted. The NEST officer dropped it, grabbing his soda, grimacing when the straw pulled at the bottom of the plastic cup. Crumpling it, he hesitated seeing no trash bag and littering on the side of the road was out of the question, in any country. Hound's glove box opened, crumpled receipts and hamburger wrappers piled up inside. The soda cup added to the pile, the green glove box closing by itself.

"I still don't understand how the femmes lost him. He's taller than Prime!" Hound rolled past the few buildings, mostly houses and one gas station before continuing the conversation. "His signal is stationary, approximately five point six three two kilometers east."

"Can you catch him if he runs?"

"Catch him yes, stop him? Not a chance," he slowed, pulling over on the side of the road to let a delivery van pass as he confirmed the location. "Four hundred meters to the left Sergeant Epps," Hound noted. The man began shaking and turning red. Concerned, the green armored scout scanned him biologically, detecting a seizing of his abdominal muscles and a need for oxygen the way his lungs began pulling in air. The sounds erupting out his throat and mouth identified as howls of laughter. "Sergeant? Why are you laughing?"

The human braced against his wheel, one arm weakly pointing at the entry archway and its hanging sign. Panting heavily, Epps wiped at the tears flowing down his face, chuckles escaping. "I love it!"

"I see only a roadside attraction. '_Prehistoric Forest, where dinosaurs once ruled'_," Hound said before blinking in surprise as the man laughed harder.

**Timbuctoo City**

**Wrecking Yard **

"We don't carry parts for that. Not yet we don't," the yard attendant greeted Will, his black eyes looking over every inch of Ironhide's alt mode with undisguised greed. The man's grimy jumpsuit and greasy hands reflected the poor condition of the shed used as an office. Mosquito netting hung in each window rather than glass and the wooden door creaked as it swung from the man's push. On each side of the structure a gate hung between metal fencing and warning signs.

"I'm here about a car. Impounded earlier today. Dark blue foreign car, long nose, wide trunk," Will began. Dressed in jeans and a green tank top, he bore no military or Autobot identification. His boots scuffed across the dirt, stepping over the worse of the potholes as he held up a photo of Chromia's alt mode.

"Ahh! You're the husband!" The man smiled widely, clasping both hands together in front of his chest.

"Husband?"

"Found no registration or papers inside the glove box. Only a note saying 'If found, please return to Ironhide at Diego Garcia.' Moreover, I can see the way you walk and stand, you are military. And Diego Garcia is the only American base in the area, hence the nickname Ironhide. You are American soldier no?"

"Yes but she isn't military," Will admitted without thinking, rolling the photo back up in his hands.

"Hah! But I bet your woman is a handful! A real looker from the police blotter! Hakeem knows!" He laughed, pulling out a large wad of keys out of his pocket. The black top kick revved rolling forward as Will hissed, raising a hand for him to stop.

'No hurting him,' he ordered in a whisper under the sounds of the creaking gate.

"Yard to the right is parts, everything and anything from Acura to Zamboni ! Left is the secure yard. Only the most valuable vehicles go here. Very expensive and worth much heh?" The man said as the metal gate in front of them swung inward.

"We'll be right out. Can you get the paperwork ready?"

"You got money, I get anything you want. Except woman. Yours grab pocketbook with impound fees. Or she hold you elsewhere?" the man laughed, stepping back by the shed as Will climbed into Ironhide. Rolling forward, the Transformer's engine revved angrily as he swerved around a pothole until his tailpipe aligned with the attendant. Pooh! With a backfiring sound, a black rolling cloud of black smoke shot out of Ironhide's tailpipe, coating the man and shed wall with black. Choking, wiping at burning eyes, the attendant stumbled forward to leave a human outline on the wall in the middle of the black.

"Did you just?" Will sputtered, turning to look over his shoulder as Ironhide drove forward.

"Our mechanical bodies do not emit gas as a human biological system does. It is a temporary smoke screen diversion associated with our alt forms. Residue built up and needed clearing. He is not hurt," Ironhide explained, his deeper vocal resonating from the entire cab space, like sitting inside a stereo speaker.

"Right. There she is. I thought he said Chromia was inside secure storage?" Ahead of them, Chromia sat parked in the sunshine, the light gleaming across her metal. She sat in front of a row of expensive Americn made cars, the spaces on either side and in front of her clear.

"He did but nowhere is secure from my femme," Ironhide rumbled, opening the driver door.

"Hi mechs! Want to party?" Chromia greeted them, her external sensors following Will as he walked out and around her.

"You okay ma'am?"

"Bah, recharged while being towed. Not the first time I wore chains," she giggled.

Will blushed, tugging on his collar as his eyes darted back and forth between her rear bumper and her sparkmate. Ironhide focused on the Lexus sedan parked behind her, reading the reflection of the sticker. "_My other ride is a Top kick_.'

"Mia! I can't believe you are wearing that!" He roared, amused and even a little excited by her open declaration.

"Elita's idea. Should see the one I put on her. '_I got Primed at Iacon'_," she giggled, the slightest slur sound to her vocals. Music began playing from her radio, her chassis rocking up and down on her axles in time to the music as Will walked back to Ironhide.

_Hurry up we're all ready  
And all you need to bring is yourself  
Gonna go slow take it steady  
Cause there's no room for nobody else_

Sun is high, sky is blue  
It's so bright, we're just waitin for you

_It's so bright, we're just waitin for you  
We know what you're doin  
We know what to do_

"I hate to ask this, but should we let her drive? Anyone drunk and I take the keys, leaving them on the couch until they sober up. And she sounds rather," Will hesitated.

"Overcharged?" Ironhide suggested.

"Raunchy. Can you two behave until we reach the rendezvous point with Silverbolt? Or at least keep her from chasing you?" Blushing harder, he looked anywhere but at the bouncing car.

_Rev it up I said  
Don't waste time  
We know where we're goin  
It's alright  
Rev it up no lead  
The coast line  
Where the wind is blowin  
It's so fine_

_We'll have fun we'll be splashin  
Lazin on the sand by the sea*_

"Why would I want to? She's my sparkmate that I waited half my existence to find. Our need for each other never changes," Ironhide's engine revved, moving him forward until his bumper rubbed over her hood.

Sighing, the Major looked back towards the main gate. "The farm tractor needs parts. Maybe he carries what I need in the other yard and can ship it back to the states. At least keep him from watching, once he gets cleaned up."

**Prehistoric Forest Roadside Attraction**

**Approx 3 miles East of Bummerville Township**

"Dino Future Stomp exhibit. Where terror and tech collide," Hound read, before ducking under the short archway. Short for a Cybertronian scout. Inside the small park as the only visitors, he transformed up into his bi pedal mode as Epps walked alongside. Passing stone and wood replicas of dinosaurs, they had no trouble spotting the red and yellow Cybertronian metal form resting alongside a stone nest filled with giant stone eggs guarded by a stone Tyrannosaurs Rex.

"Gatling guns on a T-Rex? Really? The teeth aren't enough?" Epps questioned, shaking his head at the stone replica.

"Tactically effective for multiple small opponents' long range. Teeth are for in-close fighting of large opponents," Hound said, holographically storing the image to show the other Autobots later.

"It would be easier to swiss cheese the target than pick them out of those metal molars," Epps admitted.

"With Grimlock, he'd probably rip off the arm of a Decepticon to use as a pick. However, they do add a certain dramatic effect," Hound admitted. They both stood, watching the sleeping Dinobot and the unmoving stone statues.

"Are you going to wake him?" Epps finally asked, glancing up.

"I kind of hoped you would. I detect no trace of high grade so it should be safe. Maybe."

"Throw for it? Rock, paper, scissors?"

**Funkstownship **

**30,000 feet in the air and approaching rapidly**

"Ya ready for Halo bug bot?" Jazz asked, readying as the soldiers pulled off his cargo netting. In front of Bumblebee's yellow and black Camaro alt mode, his nose titled towards the opening jet cargo hatch. Whistling air brushed across his hood, blowing the sand from the net off him. Wispy clouds blocked the ground view, giving no clue to how high up they were flying.

::Been practicing my dual wielding with a long gun and short blaster. Even processed changing my hologram to Cortana but Sam says it's too weird seeing a femme behind my wheel," Bumblebee answered, his mental comm voice excited.

"You see any game consoles on this plane? HALO as in High altitude low opening free fall drop. Also named military free fall. Spend more time on base and less sitting on your yellow aft," he explained as the soldiers removed the wheel chocks, the flight officer giving him a thumbs up gesture. Jazz flashed his lights twice, the man's goggles fogging over in the cold atmosphere.

::We're not landing?:: Bumblebee exclaimed, slightly panicking.

"This ain't Silverbolt and after messing up with Pyxis, be glad they ain't dropping us out bomb bay doors. Release in sixty seconds," he warned.

Eight minutes later Jazz transformed, both feet pads solidly planted on the soft ground before he began chuckling at the upside down Camaro hanging between two trees. Scanners confirmed no injuries even as Bumblebee failed to respond to his comm hail. "Deep stasis to avoid the landing. Youngling, you never change."

**Indian Air Field**

**US Leased Hangar**

::Prime to all teams, report in:: Optimus sent, his bi pedal mode nearly hitting the hangar roof above his helm. The large red and blue armored mech sat on the cement floor, too tall to stand. One armored hand rested on the cement, the other hand resting inside the back of his trailer on Elita's hood. The rose-colored femme recharged with the occasional click or similar sound coming from her. Hidden inside Optimus trailer, no human saw anything beyond a brightly painted truck leave and return. The airfield belonged to India, only the one hangar and use of the landing strip permitted to the US Military. And that conditional on the US understanding it was a courtesy and not an alliance of any type.

:: Team one, we have Grimlock, no damage but cost us four hundred dollars:: Hound

:: Impound fee?:: Optimus guessed.

:: Price of three stone eggs. He refused to leave them. Rolling back now and will explain once we arrive:: Hound

::Will here, team two. Ironhide is busy with Chromia. We'll be rolling soon as they finish. No impound fee, waived if they leave and never come back:: The human' voice filtered into their comm signal.

::Understood. Team Three status?:: Optimus asked, wondering what the couple were going to bring back from a parts yard that kept them busy. 'A new weapon no doubt,' he processed silently.

::Making contact now with Firestar, Arcee. Had to promise to replace the police mobile units before humans would let us in. The three cars the femmes lost when they jumped through that building. Falling debris wrecked two, the third driver hitting them going too fast to stop:: Jazz answered, his tone amused.

::Retrieve them without further incident:: Optimus ordered.

::Team Four, had to tackle Moonracer. Left one dent in her shoulder plating and she is raving about it the entire way back. Giving her a ride on my car carrier back and apologized even though it wasn't my fault. What is it with femmes and high grade? :: Ultra Magnus answered, his mental tone carrying a mixture of emotions.

::That bad brother?:: Optimus

::Next time I retrieve Elita! This crazy sniper nailed my windshield, both front tires and hood ornament before I even knew she was there! And kept firing when she knew who I was:: Magnus

::She shot you?:: Optimus tone deepened. High grade or not firing on your own troops was never allowed. Moonracer knew that.

::Hit me with paint balls! Yellow and white! I look like a seeker dropped on me! It's embarrassing. The other drivers are taking pictures and the paint won't come off with water:: Magnus sent back.

::Explains the twins reporting two cases of their supply being stolen. Paint and no shells?:: Optimus

::They still impact being Cybertronian made. We are pulling up outside the base gates now. Is our ride ready?:: Magnus

::Waiting on other teams. And rejoice Magnus. The report writing starts once we land back at Diego Garcia. And the explaining:: Optimus

:: Can you lock me up in the brig and leave them loose? I could use the rest:: Magnus

::Talk to Prowl. The brig is his domain and the first place he goes to when released out of med bay. I'm sure he is there tallying up the damage::Optimus sent before closing the comm line. Belatedly he realized neither Ratchet nor Prowl had contacted him the entire time. Then Elita shifted under his hand and everything else went into a holding que and was momentarily forgotten.

_To be continued..._

_Author's Notes: References for things mentioned here for further reading are:_

_Bumper stickers are listed in the rules in chapter 30 "If an Autobot do not do the following part 2."_

_Bumblebee not liking air drops or staying conscious when hitting on hot comet landings is a reference to chapter 1 of "You know you're addicted to humans." _

_Words to the song are "Rev it up" by B*witched. Copyrighted to them and 1998 Sony Music Entertainment (UK) Ltd. I have never heard it, found the lyrics online. I try to research what I don't know or need to._


	25. Chapter 25 Hung over and hung up

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. Time to round up all the femmes and return to Diego Garcia where the fun continues. And another twist with Prowl you probably never saw coming. Please review and let me know what you think. I do not own Transformers, only Pyxis. Onward to who did what?

TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TRANSFORMERS

**INDIAN AIR FIELD**

**US LEASED HANGAR**

"Nice paint job there Commander. Hit a flock of seagulls? Or rather, they hit you!" Hound teased. The city commander refused to acknowledge the remark, rolling in and turning as he could in the narrow hangar. His double decker car hauler shape the largest and widest alt mode present. The white and yellow paint ball splotches too vivid against Ultra Magnus' blue and red armor paint under the florescent lights. The lone sports car on his top most ramp transformed, more collapsing down to the floor than stepping down.

"Where's Ratchet?" Moonracer's vocal seemed slow and heavy even to her. Her optics shuttered at the bright lights and unfamiliar space.

"NEST. Do you need medical attention?" Will answered first, his hand reaching for his radio. On foreign soil, his options were limited but sending a team back early in Silverbolt for medical necessity, even if he could not say who needed attention, remained universal.

"My tanks are churning," she complained, bracing one armored arm against her curved center plating.

"High grade will do that," Optimus reminded softly, nodding for Will to stand down and relax.

"No, his driving. Slaggin trailer swayed side to side," she mumbled, stumbling towards the wall. Ironhide's black armored arm reached up, pulling her closer to where he sat. Metal on metal scraped as her body slid down his side plating to rest against him. The warrior mech smirked, Chromia draped on his left recharging as Moonracer flopped on his right, her head resting on his war cannon.

"I'm a soldier not transport," Magnus muttered, too tall to transform in the low hangar. He rolled forward, stopping as the growling sound began. "You know those are stone?" he asked, his headlights turning to the side.

"Eggs Grimlock's," the Dinobot snarled, his long metal tail curled around the open wooden crate, pulling it against his footpad. Among yellow straw padding, the three stone eggs rested inside. Grimlock lay on his front, his toothy muzzle closest, the red optics reflecting in the shiny bumper mere inches away.

"Magnus please don't provoke him. There isn't room in here for a fight and the ride back will have even less," Optimus stated, his optics never moving from Elita's recharging form. Her systems hummed unevenly but loud enough to be reassuring as the femme rested on her side.

"Who's still missing?"

"Bumblebee, Jazz, Arcee and Firestar. Jazz reported contact with the femmes and they should be checking in shortly," Optimus answered, his fingers wrapping gently around Elita's outstretched hand.

:: Remember the last time Arcee got overcharged?:: Magnus sent to Optimus alone, rolling the short distance to pull up in front of the Prime.

:: She follows her parental mech, even if Arcee has no idea it is you:: Optimus answered, his regal presence unchanged sitting on the floor with his back on the wall and his feet pads out.

:: Keeping our relationship hidden is for her protection and high grade doesn't affect me that way::Magnus retorted.

:: Doesn't affect? Says the bot rescued from the ship's hull. Staring up at the stars and whining about none falling so he could make a wish for a femme: Optimus countered.

:: It was my first space mission as a recruit. And I remembered the safety harness. Better than you dancing on the table missing armor:: Magnus tone carrying the unseen smirk.

:: You cannot dance even with high grade:: Optimus chuckled, the others looking their direction unable to hear the conversation.

**INDIA MAINLAND**

**VINDHYA MOUNTAIN RANGE**

:: I can reach my vibro knife. Have us free in an astro second:: Bumblebee sent. His armored hand shifted lower, the stun charge wearing off his systems. The chains binding his chassis to the tree and Jazz on the other side rattled, the noise lost as the femmes continued their war whoops. Hiding near the base of the mountains, their triumphant cries disappearing into the open air and surrounding forest.

:: Nah. They are overcharged and harmless. I let them stun and capture us. Or me, since you were still offline from the landing:: Jazz replied, teasing. His battle visor hid his dim optics as he tilted his helm sideways to get a better look at Flareup's dancing chassis. Her red and orange armor jingled as she shook and arched. Then the femme straightened, waving her arms in the air before six throwing blades appeared in her hands.

"Tree and mech, will I am? No, Will wishing well?" She giggled, waving the metal blades in the air.

"William Tell? Archer who could hit an apple?" Jazz suggested, his battle systems activating, realizing he was the mech tied to the tree in front of her. :: Bee! Get that tool ready. Bee? Bug bot, you listening?:: He twisted around, his neck cables stretching to see the young scout's helm firmly pressed against Arcee's chest plates as she hugged him and the tree.

:: Do I have too? First time in orns I have been this close without her trying to flatten me into the pavement:: Bumblebee softly answered, his attention obviously not on the conversation.

:: Your spark flaring? You're not overheating are you?:: Jazz asked, too distracted by the flinging blades to activate his thermal sensors. Two blades hit on either side of his body, missing him by a cable's breath. The near miss worried him but Bumblebee was a youngling almost of age and a femme's touch could trigger side effects they didn't have time for, blades or not.

:: Nope, it is settling. I miss being carried and hearing Ironhide or Optimus tell me a story. Their sparks are strong and made me feel safe. Feels good cuddling:: Bumblebee admitted, relaxing against Arcee. The femme crooned, a comforting noise of their kind as her hand soothed across Bee's helm vents. Jazz felt himself slipping into her musical comfort before he realized it, the effect broken when Flareup's next knife scraped across his shoulder plating.

::Bee, I'm sure Optimus would gladly hold you. Then throw you in the lagoon for making us all late. Mush out later warrior! We got orders!:: Jazz yell snapping across their comm frequency like a drill sergeant and his rank as third in command of the Autobot forces.

:: Yes sir! Uhm, can you tell them that?:: He asked.

:: If you quit humming like a happy sparkling, they might hear me. You are not helping. And Flareup's aim is getting worse:: Jazz retorted.

Five minutes later both cars revved their engines full out, two more powerful engines behind them. ::And how am I going to explain my missing right audio cover? Ratchet will dent my helm for sure!:: Jazz cried.

::Tell the truth. Damaged beyond repair while attempting to complete our mission?:: Bumblebee suggested, his forward scanner array monitoring for humans, animals and earth vehicles on the winding road.

::More a crazy overcharged femme that can't aim worth a cyber speck!:: Jazz sent, more embarrassed than angry over the femme's minor but noticeable injury to him in his bi pedal mode.

::Bad idea. Ironhide and Chromia will work with her then make you stand still while she proves her aim is better. Might lose your optics:: Bumblebee teased, the trees flashing by at their high speeds.

::Point. Ease off going into the curve, the road grade ain't right:: The sports care advised, his tires sliding on the edge before gaining traction as he raced. Close behind, Bumblebee's heavier Camaro alt mode slid over the white fog line completely, revving back but not really slowing. The two femmes following behind not even trying to stay in the lines as they chased.

**DIEGO GARCIA**

**AUTOBOT PERSONAL QUARTERS**

**FOUR HOURS LATER**

::Yes Ratchet, I understand. Elita will be in med bay shortly. I am dealing with her now:: Optimus sent before closing the comm line, glad the other femmes unloading off the plane had kept the medic busy. Busy enough for him to roll his trailer out and down the ramp with Elita tucked safely inside. Now he had his hands full guiding her into their private quarters before any humans saw her.

"Optimus, my mushy smexi mech," Elita slurred, giggling. Her rose-colored form wavered side-to-side going down the hallway. Another step and she collided with her stopped spark mate. "Hey! No brake lights!"

"This is our room silly spark. Never could handle high grade could you femme?" he chuckled, reaching out to help balance her. His bi pedal mode towered over her even as his arms reached around and past her smaller waist.

Slapping at his offered hand, she stood full height, barely reaching under his chin plate. "I held it fine for Chromia to pour into. Both times."

"Most mini bots can handle three and you get overcharged on two cubes," he gently placed his hands on both her shoulder plates, guiding her through the outer doorway ahead of him.

Suddenly mischievous, Elita braced, engaging full battle protocols. Optimus had no warning before she spun on her feet pads, optics narrowing in on the far wall over his shoulder. An astro second of distraction on his part to see what caught her attention left him at her mercy. Two rose-colored hands grabbed precisely and applied pressure, pulling his arm behind him as the other tipped his upper body forward battle style while spinning to his side. "Gotcha!"

"Twisting my arm is a human expression, not literally," Optimus stated, not resisting. The door clicked shut behind them, locking to his silent command. Comm frequencies went into standby, all but the command emergency channel routing to Ironhide.

"You has to do what I sway," she slurred.

"I think not," was his only warning as a large armored hand sneaked behind her legs, sweeping forward at knee gear height. His upper body slamming up, he tucked his other arm in tight trapping hers at the same time. Unbalanced, gravity took over as her sparkmate held her firmly, upside down and swinging in the air over his arm like a pendulum.

"Put me down!" Elita shrieked, upside down too much for her offset system as he carried her towards their recharge room.

"Or what?" His kind optics regarded her steadily, watching her fumbling attempts to grab his armor as he moved forward. "Up you go!" Hydraulics hissing, gears shifted to tighten strong cables as his frame swung hers onto the berth. Venting softly, he helped her sit upright.

"Is not fair. You always win."

"I am a Prime and designed for victory," he reminded, cupping the side of her face with his hand. Overly warm, the metal hummed with high-level energy.

"What do I win?" Elita sagged, both hands wrapping around his.

Venting harder, he tilted her chin up to look deep into her optics. "My spark. My life, my very existence. You are the last line of code in my processor before I slip into recharge and the first sight my optics yearn to see. You are everything I could hope for and everything I need."

His arms gathered her against his chest plates, arms capable of crushing down to the spark yet gentle enough to hold a sparkling, or an overcharged femme. His air intakes opened, pulling in her aroma, chuckling at the faint trace of high grade. "I need you. I want you. My most precious Elita. Elita? Femme?" Tilting her back to see, she clicked in recharge; jaw gears slack and cables limp. Tenderly shifting her to lay out on their berth, Optimus armored fingers traced across her faceplates. "When you wake I will show you how much I need your spark."

**AUTOBOT MEDICAL BAY**

**ONE HOUR LATER**

Ratchet hesitated, an urgent warning without words pinging across his processor as he passed through the double doors. "No intrusion," his optics scanned the main treatment area, searching for the wrongness that eluded him. The medical berths were empty, the attached sensor units neatly stacked on each side table. "Nothing seems missing. All my tools cabinets are locked. No twin pranks, no missing containers. The femmes are in their rooms, Hound watching Moonracer until I can be with her." Yet the nagging feeling persisted to almost overwhelming. "Prowl let himself out, no problem there. He knows the routine by now. The portable sparkling recharger is in the corner, ready for next use. Strange, Elita usually takes it with her. And she left the mineral additions for his energon here."

:: Ratchet to Elita. Did you give Pyxis his afternoon energon? You forgot the mineral additives:: Ratchet sent, frowning when her signal took longer than normal to clear.

:: Pyxis? Huh what? Oh, uhm. Be there shortly:: Elita answered slowly, her signal strong even as her words fumbled as though half out of it.

Inside med bay, Ratchet froze, linking the clues together. Prowl missing, the sparkling gone and not with Elita. Ratchet closed the comm line, blocking any flare of panic from reaching her. "Prowl is operating on basic programming only. Where would he go? His quarters? No, he barely recharges there. Twins tried setting a trap on his bunk and he never appeared for a week. His office! No, not a safe spot to protect. The brig!" Ratchet figured out, keying the nearest monitor.

"Please state the nature of the emergency," Prowl's vocal responded instantly. The scene on the monitor did little to reassure the medic. The black and white armored officer sat on the wall bench alongside his desk, the sparkling in his arms.

"Prowl?"

"Hey Ratchet," he smiled at the monitor. Cradled in his arms, Pyxis clicked, a long black cylinder in his hands. Optics blinking, Ratchet narrowed in on Prowl's dimmer optics then the sparkling. Under the white paint splotches his black protoform appeared intact and his vocal clicks within normal active range.

"You gave him your stun baton to play with?"

"My practice one. The weapon one is locked in the cabinet, with all the other dangerous stuff. My sparkling needs to be safe," Prowl reassured.

"Safe is in medbay. I can meet you there and we can walk back here together? Need anything?"

"Nonsense. My sparkling is safe right here. Door is locked and no bot is getting close enough to be a problem," the smile left his faceplates. The monitor image disappeared as Prowl ended the transmission.

Then it clicked for Ratchet. The use of the word 'my', the safe place for Prowl and the black and white coloring of the sparkling. :: Prime, Elita, we have a serious problem:: he sent.

**AUTOBOT BRIG**

The door to the brig slid open, the rose colored femme framed in the doorway. "Prowl?"

"Elita, my wonderful gift bearer," he smiled, locking down his weapons system immediately. One of his armored hands patted the open space on the bench as if in invitation.

The femme smiled back, sending a quick message to Ratchet and Optimus before crossing the threshold:: He's upright but optics are dim. Definitely not working on all chips::

:: Be careful! My override only opened the door:: Optimus warned as she moved into the room, beyond his visual range. Waiting at the other end of the hallway, he stood with Ratchet and Ultra Magnus at Elita's request. Though whether because they were the only two mechs capable of taking an enraged Prime down or the best team use to working with each other in the bad situations remained an unspoken point of debate.

:: I will. He will not harm Pyxis or me in this mode. His programming instinct is to guide and protect:: Elita reassured as the brig outer door slid shut, blocking her from view.

:: You cannot be sure of that when he is glitching:: Ultra Magnus cautioned, his larger mass wedged up behind Optimus as they waited for the signal to move in.

::What other choice is there? Huffer is solid again and Wheeljack lacks the parts to make another phasing device. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker only know how to break out, not into the brig. Red Alert is confined to quarters under medical leave and can't override Prowl's authority. Any invasion force and our sparkling is caught in the crossfire:: Elita's sent, her vital signs flashing across Optimus optics with the indicator her battle systems were active.

Inside the brig Prowl smiled at her, unaware of the outside audience monitoring.

"Can I hold Pyxis?" She moved forward a step, calculating the safest way to deal with him in the confined space.

"He's our sparkling. Incredible. I never processed it as possible," Prowl murmured, his armored fingers stroking across the sparkling's white tipped helm vents in a caress. Pyxis wiggled his darker feet and arms, leaning into the affection, the practice baton falling to the floor. In a single motion Elita caught it, placing the baton on the desk out of reach of them both.

"No playing with that until clean," she murmured, sitting down on the bench. Reaching for Pyxis, one hand moving in under the sparkling's back plates, her other hand sliding in between Prowl's arm as her optics remained focused on his. Gently pulling, the tiny form shifted into the protection of her arms.

"You are so beautiful," Prowl murmured, cupping her faceplate with his now free white armored hand. Leaning in, his lip plates brushed gently across hers.

:: Elita, your readings are increasing. Is he being threatening?:: Optimus interrupted.

::Not unless you worry about him being a better kisser:: Elita sent back, amusement and appreciation in her tone.

::He's kissing you? Blast him! You're mine femme. Get Pyxis and I'll deal with him, logic glitch or not:: Optimus rumbled angrily through their link.

::Relax primate of mine:: Elita teased back, glad her mate couldn't see Prowl's arms snaking around her waist plates to pull her closer as the kiss deepened. Between them Pyxis clicked happily, reaching out a tiny hand to grasp the edge of her armor.

::That's Prime, as in Matrix bearer, designated leader of the Autobots and your one and only sparkmate::: Optimus seethed, cracking sounds as his hands curled into fists. He couldn't see but had a good image in his imagination, the whirr of his cooling fans audibly increasing. Both Ultra Magnus and Ratchet stepped back out of his arm swinging range as a precaution.

::Keep jumping around all emotional and the human term 'going ape' as in 'primate' applies. And it safe to come in. He's sedated:: Elita sent, half expecting the door to be torn off its hinges. Instead, it began sliding open before slamming back roughly into the wall housing by a red and blue armored arm.

Flaring blue optics narrowed at Prowl and Elita sitting on the bench. Elita's rose colored form cradling Pyxis to her shoulder as Prowl leaned back, wing doors drooping against the wall, his optics shuttered. Both his arms were crossed in his lap, resting palm plates upward. A decreasing hum emanated from his chassis as his systems slipped into medically induced stasis.

"No energon cuffs or restraints?"

Laughing, Elita rose to her feet pads holding Pyxis out for him to see. "Sorry, not into bondage even if Prowl is." Whatever Optimus retort would have been, never came.

Clicking excitedly, Pyxis reached for the bright colors he knew meant love. "CLICK SNIKT Daddy."

The huff of air blowing from Optimus vents cleared the notation board of the posted papers, the white pages fluttering to the floor. "Daddy? Did you just call me?" Two heavily armored arms reached for his son, metal hands cradling the little giggling form while waiting to hear that one word again.

"SNACK daddy CLUNK?"

"Yes, daddy loves you very much," Optimus raised him up, nuzzling the sparkling across his larger cheek plating, seeing and feeling tiny hands patting the edge of his optical ring.

"I told you Prowl would not hurt either of us," Elita reminded.

"If he had, there wouldn't have been enough left to give Grimlock as a chew toy," Optimus rumbled.

"Speaking of, where is he? Grimlock I mean," Magnus asked, staying back to let Ratchet examine Prowl. The sparkling was an unknown to the large warrior, a fragile life worth protecting but mysterious and scary.

"On the beach by Annabelle's sandcastle, on his sand nest. He's my next stop. Had three calls regarding his behavior already," Ratchet answered.

"Grimlock is not seriously?"Magnus exclaimed, unfolding his arms.

"It gets better," the medic smiled. "Wheeljack reports three cleaner bot frames are missing from his lab. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker have been quiet for breems and Sergeant Epps reported metal and parts missing from the NEST motor pool. Want to take a guess what that adds up to?"

_To be continued..._


End file.
